Sitting on floor,
my study,
door closed,
Sunday,
December 19, 1994,
5:07 pm,
listening to new CD,
Jack Kerouac
explaining
the Beat Generation,
when phone rings,
and Jamie,
my son,
answers
upstairs,
yells
downstairs,
through door,
message from
Jerry,
my dad,
away
in New York.
Turned off
CD
better to hear:
"Grandpa'll be
home
in an hour
and-a-half. (Pause).
He says he's
on the road."
And I said,
but
of course.
