Kerouac's Watch

the last few weeks have felt odd 

by which I mean, I feel odd in the world 

kinda vulnerable, exposed

like hiking above tree line

keeping one eye on the clouds

expecting the lightening at any moment

feeling like nothing fits anymore 

places that used to hold me

now pinch like brand new saddle shoes

that I want to hurl away from me and

scamper ahead barefoot, barefaced, unapologetic. 

voices, sawing back and forth on my skin,

every word utterly abrasive

but still they keep nattering on

bleating and blatting

expecting me to give a shit

disconnected from time

as if I am no longer wound

into the mainspring of it 

as if past, present and future are all now 

I don't want to play nice anymore

I don't want to compromise, to listen

to please everyone but me

I want to overwind the spring

until cartoon boing-y noises

splinter out of it

I want to shoot them all the bird

hit the road with my thumb out

and see where it takes me