On the Road Listening to Jack

KJM

Hippie skirts twirling, muddy toes, weave around the blooming, spring trees
Something's in the oven, take a whiff, smells like love to me
Smile as wide as a western horizon sky, let me see it again please
Beautifully eery ghost songs of wayward cowboys riding on the breeze

Summer sunsets on the mountain prairie, whip time to the past of roaming
Long embraces, loving to talk this way, but we're just looking
Canine barking so excited, in the kitchen while we're cooking
Growing wrinkled, our mind's portrait is where youth's beauty will be lurking

You're the little babe of my life
You're my best friend, you make me high
And when I look in to your eyes, our love is a blinding sight
And when you shake, dance and dip, I have to keep my grip tight
You're the little babe of my life

The apples are ripe for the picking, turning leaves, release their hold
Falling in love with you for the 999th time in a warm autumn poem
Stars to infinity, on a black canvas sky, our bond is just as bold
Brown hair against the earthen tones, a beautiful sight, your glowing soul

Farmhouse down in the vale, under the foggy mountains that loom
Waking up early in the winter cold, under blankets, our naked bodies spoon
Hold you 'till the morning chill subsides, won't let you leave too soon
And when we part for the day, your imprint leaves me howling at the moon

You're the little babe of my life
You're my best friend, you make me high
And when I look into your eyes, the future looks so bright
And when you put on those dark sun glasses, you cut me like a sexy knife
You're the little babe of my life

Daniel Wilder
March 16th, 2007
11:51 AM



Ho, ho, ho! The end is in sight and I dig it. It has been a awhile since I've spread the good word of my journey through life and across the country to a land of new beginnings. The past week and a half have been filled with excitement, adventures and a whole lot of driving.

Last week we saw my parents in Minnesota and hit up my Grandfather's cabin in the great white north. I had not been there in years and as we pulled into the driveway in Crosslake the first thing that hit me was the smell. A strange musty, pine smell that shook my very being. A flood of old memories came pouring back, bittersweet and full of love. Smell is a strange thing, through the smell I experienced my entire life in that cabin in a split second. It was sad, happy and beautiful all at the same time. I hope one day Kelly will experience the same thing when she smells that Crosslake smell. We only stayed for a day and it rained but it was still excellent. And yes we checked out Victor's.



This whole trip has been a time of reflection for me. It seems that everywhere we went in Minnesota I was haunted by memories of people that I have lost along the way. They have disappeared into the countryside, only to be found in the pastures of my mind. At the same time my oldest friends remain close and I hope to reconnect with some of the lost ones eventually. Dave, your package made me cry, thank you so much for that.

Bob Dylan blasts out of the radio and we have just crossed into Maryland. We have also been listening to Matt Dillon acting out the audio book of On the Road. Kerouac is brilliant and makes me want to write more. Our trip has been a little rocky since Minnesota. We stopped in Madison and Milwaukee to see my cousins and Grandmother. I had not seen either of my cousins who are actually more like brothers since last summer. Seeing them is like re-reading your favorite book and we always pick up right where we left off. Grace got to play with Katie, my Grandma's goliath black lab. The smell of my grandmother's house haunted me with memories of Christmas and the Fouth of July and of families being families.

From Milwaukee we hit up Oberlin, Ohio to fraternize with a couple of Kelly's friends from Brazil. Planning on only staying a night, we stayed two as our cat ran away in the morning while we were packing back up. We didn't find her until this morning and she almost got left behind. Our guess was she had to do a little fraternizing of her own, answering the lustful catcalls of the night. Kittens might be on the way.

So here I am writing this as we pull into Frederick, Maryland, car packed to the brim, animals in tow, ready to grab the future by the horns, bucking and kicking until I get bucked off at the end of the line. Peace and Love all around. Dan Wilder.

May 24, 2007 3:00 PM

P.S. The above poem was written while still at "The Farm" in Boulder.

P.S.S. N-tr, Schnitz or whatever you are calling yourself these days. The root of communism is community. This means that in order for you to truly be a communist there has to be interaction between you and other people. If you are depressed you should get some help with it, I did and I am feeling a lot better. It will never be perfect but there are ways to help you cope. The world is a mean and cruel place, don't let "The Man" get you down. A lot of people love you, including myself and I was sad that you didn't come to the little dinner at my parents house. "Realize that life moves fast, it's hard to make the good things last, and realize that the sun don't go down, it's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round"(FL). The world wants to hear what you have to say. Hope to see you soon and have a good time abroad.