Book of Sketches by Jack Kerouac Read Free Book Online Page B

man
in RR hat & man in Panama
talk & watch — sun’s
coming out — US Royal
Farm Tires sign waves
in breeze — small Farmers
Co Op gas truck went
by — Tourists — Small
liquor store, was once gas
station, where I got wine,
white plaster, white fence,
green lawn, looks like
LA realty office —
music from a restaurant
juke — junkyard in distance
— nobody on street
— everywhere the green
balls of trees over roofs
— last night a thousand
birds from the Plains were
yakking in this town — from
the Plains Clay Center is
a cozy nestled settlement
in the Huge —
     
    It’s the thought of Nin
that makes this trip so
sad — my sister didnt
love me, I didnt know
it —
The drink that’s bitter
going down, & sweet in
memory — Life.
I am now stuck
outside Norton Kan.
with no prospect of
any ride, nightfall,
hunger, thirst, death.
Brierly saved my damned
useless life — I went
to Prairie View Kans. in a
truck, in a vale from behind
where I was, phoned
him collect, he’s sending
— but why make a record,
he’s saving me — he expects
to see me & be all excited
in talk & joy — like I
was — but am I dead?
— I want to say to him
“I dont understand what’s
happening — any more —
I dont understand the
dew — I know there is
no Why but I cant help
it — ” But he saved me
— I went from Clay
Center in a car driven by
blond handsome young
reclamation worker — we
drove 60 miles west to
Beloit — I felt very
happy, the land of Kansas
smiled —
     
    days that start good end
up bad — at Beloit I
got a ride from father &
son (father road
worker, apparently drove
to Missouri to fetch him for
holidays, is married to
‘new wife’) — to a
lone-ass junction at
281 — hot killing sun
— no cars — I thought
I was done for (was,
too) — I prayed to be
saved — a man carrying
a carseat load of dead
side beef (smell of
death) saved me —
my meaty dumb bones
— & carried me zipping
to Smith Center —
     
    wrecked his car Feb. 29!
nice old fella — (on 28!)
I know the joy those
little girls’ll remember,
in Prairie View with their
mother — yes I do —
And that cunt’s tall
grandfather — does
my mother think I
dont know those
things? —
Nobody cares —
How can they care
when they dont know?!
— At Smith Center a
ride to a country junction
from a farmer hero
straight profile with
little blond son —
     
    at ice cream stand, the
mother said to her son
“Dont hang around with
him” & I recognized her
face & she mine — mad —
but I got a ride to
(this was off Agra) —
to doomed Phillipsburg
from carload of kids driv
by Marine ex & wife —
Okie — on I go with
dignified father & son
to that lonely hole
on a hill where I
think I die — 2 hours,
no rides, zoom, sun
going down, despair,
— Prairie View in
truck — but later —
     
    I walked in with seabag —
Old falsefront western
wood stores, dirt, or tarred
gravel sandy road Main
Street, cars crunch over
majestically, on review on
Sat. nites — but not a
soul in sight, I’m going
down over prairie hollow
of trees bloodred, birds
thrashing in trees, —
I go to Public Telephone
little old white house,
woman long calls Neal
for me (San Jose), he’s
not home — her husband
in long overalls was
once farmer, gives me
hamburg sandwich huge,
says (& also huge
glass water) — “A man
dont know what to do
anyway.” — Sun goes
down, I wait, — dark,
Prairie Viewers come round
for Satnite, men sit in
front gen’l hardware, some
on ground, talk soft —
little kids hurry to
church suppers or whatever,
mothers — sodafountain
opens, I sit, watch happy
mother & little Gaby Nashua
joy girls — ate my heart —
& crazy castrated lunatic
Wellington chain smoking
stuttering smelling somehow
sweet & open air talks
to me — Ah — “Born
same date & year as
A G Bell a great
     
    intelligent” — “hmph,
a Swede, he’s a Hollander,
there’s Mr. So and so,
barn burned down in ’49”
etc. — Pushes hat back,
wild hair brow pasted,