Sullied is this black-and-white blanket
bequeathed to the cat's house for bedding, its edges more frayed
than a book jacket of The Prophet.

Kerouac's dharma bums heralded his return.
Blistered pavement rose up to bathe in his sweat.
And stars came out early over Kansas.

In San Francisco he was given a 5-dollar bill
and this blanket. Throughout late fall nights
in Anchorage the blanket availed itself.

Then a full-length, insulated Army coat for $5
in a Salvation Army store dosclosed its intentions.
The blanket had accepted its own meaning by then.

Cleaning the cat's house in Upstate twenty years later
I imagine him where I left him—playing his harmonica
after chicken wings with gravy at the Rescue Mission,
strolling Second Avenue beneath the Northern Lights, in bodhi.

Copyright © 2004 Mike Newell. All rights reserved.