On MY road

Here is an excerpt from my version of On The Road, which I finally just finished. Thank God.

My version of “On The Road”


Dean was jumping, hopping, skipping, running, singing with his shirt off, dancing around the steering wheel like a bunny hoping to catch a fast running carrot his friend the horse dug up for him. He was talking mad like a mad man, trying to make the first girl that he saw “yessa” he’d say “yessa” he’d say after the girl he was trying to make. Telling her how soft she was while he danced around naked with his pale brown skin showing through the slim sheet of the mist of Mexico.

I sat and listened to the mambo and bop, smoking the tea with Sal and Johnny F. I wanted to make a girl too, but Dean was hopping around the fly I hoped to catch in my web. So I stayed up and talked to Johnny F all night, telling stories we told each other already a million times but making it new each time with the retelling of the old stories.

I saw the sky through the stars and felt the air on my skin, not near it or close to it but felt it on it my skin was the sky and the sky was my skin as Dean got crazier and crazier till I felt that he was the sky and my skin and the air. I saw a white horse kiss his face and tell him he loved him and when Dean woke up he told me of dreams of white horses and I told him my truths and how they mixed with his dreams and how dreams of white horses mean lives of white horses.

And on and on and on.

Am I wrong?