Jack Kerouac Dreamed of the Dharma

Jack Kerouac dreamed of the


All doubledy-clutched,

And rolling

At about a hundred and

Ten miles

Per hour,

You unnerstand,

In a nineteen forty-seven Dodge coupe;

All the way across the vastness of the

Great Plains

And up the Ohio Valley

It would come roaring into Manhatten

Like a

Drunken Denver cowboy,

With his wages burning a hole in his pocket;

But the Interstates left

The Dharma stranded like

An ancient alcoholic


In a small room

At the Wagon Wheel Motel


Cuba, Missouri

On what used to be Route 66.

Aw, Jack Kerouac is dead, anyway

And the Dharma never really

Caught on

With the American public

so maybe its just as well.

That he failed to beat

Those particular odds;


Death is enough.


On Drinking Alone

If God is ever present

Then no one drinks alone.

I’m not sure if that’s a comfort

Or a cause for alarm.

I guess I’ll leave the theological

Ramifications to the experts.




jerry o’bannion


Jerry is a retired Engliah teacher who continues to write poems against his better judgement.

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