My Bob Dylan Mask

Tomorrow I'm packing up my books, hula hoop, papers and writing utensils and heading west.  Once I'm there I'll find my way to the nearest hollowed-out Redwood, and there I'll set up camp. 

When the Spring comes I might decide to walk to the city by the bay.  But only if the mood is right and the ground is soft.

Wandering down Haight Street, I'll inevitably stumble into Club Deluxe.  Try as I might to go unnoticed in a dark corner of the jazz café, the man calling me "Sweetheart" from his stool at the bar will bring over a slice of piping hot pizza pie.  I'll take it graciously--the first real meal I've had since February--then tell him I'm just a 16-year-old peach.  

"I'm not ripe yet, darlin'."  And with a wink I'll sidle past his objections out of the booth and on to the street.

Then I'll try to hail a cab that I don't have the money for, and the ghost of Jack Kerouac will open the door for me and climb in behind me.  While we drive to nowhere, he'll sit on his feet and talk about Zen Buddhism and life in the hills.  I'll study the shape of his mouth and the way his lips move around the words he's handing over to me.  It's not a rich voice, or smooth in any regard, but one marred by time and alcohol, saddened at the seed he seemingly planted.  

We'll end up just where we started from; once back on Haight Street, Jack and I will stop in the nearest record store we can find.  He'll pull out a vinyl of Blood Money and tell me he really digs on Tom Waits.  Such and such about the man's voice, "like gravel thrown at a screen door."  Or a hammer taken to a paper wall.  I will probably laugh at him and nod in agreement.  Then I'll pull out Blonde on Blonde.  From behind my Bob Dylan mask I'll ask Jack how to make love stay.

"Who in hell you think I am, Red?  Tom Robbins?  Sometimes love isn't supposed to stay."

Then he'll draw a map on my hand to lead me back to my self.

Maybe the sun won't rise tomorrow; we won't know until we see it.  But I'm going to believe that it will and that when I see it, I'll already be on my way.