Sleep 

 

   the Kerouac

     train

       of days

     slide

        like a fly

                                in the screen 

      outside 

    Mr. 

     play

      the stoned

      wash 

      of 

       the City

   Bye the bay

           you're washed up 

         even your ma

      won't talk to you

                    but you don't care

         the words are 

      in your back pocket

                         next to twelve cents