Neal Cassady(Charles Plymell)An ego pressed onwardLike a tight skirt in the nightPopeye and Olive OylSwaggering down the streetJumping parking metersdoing exercise gyrationsExpectations surrounded himin crowds and beach boy croniesTarot card sharks and wood shootersThe Fastest Gun in the West.I showed him picturesOf Butch and the wild bunch"Neal, Was he your father?"That worried orphaned-lookI'll not forget.He lived fast, his beds, death rowsto blow genius away, like The Doors,A race over rails from time's windowpanesun hot on the Mexican landscape--theRailroad tracks chromed with cocaine.
(from Six by Charles Plymell. Photo of Neal Cassady from Influx.)
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