I am Jack Kerouac, I would think… as I sat outside the bedroom window with skeleton trees hanging over me. Gazing up at the stars, I’d take a drag off my Camel and wait for the coyotes. The cool harmonic breeze shadowed the feint sounds of far off crickets. The air was thin all around, the kind that bends the youth to their knees, in disbelief. Then the silence, the darkness, muzzling all impurity stood still. And through the night, with all the horror be...
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