Jack Kerouac, a poem (i think)

The worst lie I ever told
Was when you gave me On the Road

Jack Kerouac
Did nothing for me
Still I chewed, I chewed, I chewed
On every word
With my head
Over my knees

I'd have done anything, anything
To be your intellectual
Or your neoliberal
Equal

I tried to burn burn burn
Like Roman candles for you
Indulging your zen
Made me sick

I mailed your letters back
When you left the academy
And the vintage paperback
You had lent me

Then I spew, I spew, I spew
On that pretentious little note
That you wrote

Tell a secret in the cold
Hide it in my throat
When I got home
When I got home
I scrubbed my mouth

You taste like tobacco
And your ego
Got stuck between my teeth
Dig it out, and I bleed

Call from your mother
I guess you're home early
Hide in your room

The edge of our photograph
Torn just barely
Fading too soon

Terms of endearment
Could slip through the door
Swallow the key

Choke on the sentiment
Mean at the core
Bruise on your knee