I just happened to be passing by, out wandering when I heard the din coming from inside, a few strains of old melodies that sounded so sweet, so I figured I'd just hang out here in the parking lot and kick a few gravels with my foot while I listened....when damned if I didn't think I spotted an old Mercury that Neal Cassady used to drive. You remember what Neal's wife said about his idea of heaven...an old car and a girl.... If memory serves, he was originally from around these parts, if I am where I think I am. I get easily confused these days. This looks like a place that would fit him like a well worn suit. ....anyway I thought I'd just pop in for a moment...maybe I'd see Neal's ghost back there waiting for his father, shooting pool with Kerouac.... bbc, is there anything to eat? You know if Kerouac were in here he'd be eating. Seems like he was always hungry. I can almost see him sitting at that table by the window, crumpled and dirty, gathering himself together after having emerged from that boxcar on the railroad tracks out back. He had a way of describing a sumptuous feast of beans and cornbread washed down with gallons of black coffee as if it were a night of exquisite lovemaking.

Could I just sit at this table by the window for a moment? I can't stay long. Oh hell, while I'm here could you bring me some Beam on the rocks...no, scratch that, I'm in the mood for Austin Nichols Wild Turkey, 101 proof. Kerouac just went back for seconds, and he's talking that stream-of-consciousness stuff like his life depended on it. And if someone could play that "Good Mornin' Blues" they were talking about earlier, it would be greatly appreciated. Thanks, love...