I was restlessly reading Kerouac again,
if for no other reason than the Old Man
of the Alleghenies scene. That's a keeper.
Every man searches for his father, I
suppose, in some endless fashion. Now
the way-too-low jets are sliding in for
Newark. Th airport squanders dreams
like every 6 minutes, certain times of
day, and everything just noisily rattles
in. It wasn't like that then.