Jack Kerouac atop a mountain, exactly 60 years ago
Turning off the two-way radio to write, he said
Though not much to show for it and no fires started neither
Only six months after his descent, new found
Fame chasing him down so fast he burned up.
Angel of the Road less desolate in solitary watching for fires.
Fireman said lady, lady don’t lay there.
Leave now or we’ll both die in this wildfire.
Cremated in his Californian home, husband
‘Bob and my animals who can never be replaced’. On TV
The widowed angel speaks firmly through a well-kept mouth
And clear blue eyes where desolation has yet to set in.