Tonight I'll finish reading 'On The Road'
By Jack Kerouac. Goodbye, Sal and Dean
Forever young maybe, their story told
But it doesn't make happiness pristine
No, there is the dark stain of suffering
Borne out by the author's early demise
Next Monday I'm attending a reading
With this book as the theme. I wrote some lines
For it a week ago, but I'll revise
Them once, maybe twice, till they're fit to read
It's not unknown for life to be quite mean
To people whom we assume had great lives
Famous now, and dead, but misunderstood
Lonely, rejected, always wandering
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