The following can also be found in the book Chicago Stories 1997. Click here to learn more, and to download a free electronic copy.

For Lisa Hemminger

You see, I like the fact that you lived with your aunt. It is the crucial element, the epiph to your epiphany which is the classic which is the so-much-more which is "On The Road." You had an out, you see. That is the beauty of it. That is the genius of it. Your bus-ticket-waiting-for-you-just-a-phone-call-away was more than just a ticket home, it was a ticket to the luxury which is writing, the luxury of contemplation and inspiration and consternation and flagellation, intoxication and masturbation -- your ticket is what separated your homeless ass from the truly homeless, your dispossessed ass from the truly dispossessed... huh, your drunk ass from Neal Cassady's drunk ass, and when the contrite, uptight, likes-to-write but loves-to-fight high-as-a-kite pretentious west-side drink-til-four-in-the-a-m po... et likes to bitch at me about how I don't have the "street cred" to write what I do, it is your ticket-owning daddy-o ass, Jack, that allows me the luxury to say, "Kiss my ass!"

And now, Jack, you have cashed in your ticket and you are sitting in beat heaven...

where the coffee is always free...

and the speed is never cut with strychnine...

and I can hear ya, Jack, I can hear you laughing, laughing at all the fools who just don't get it, the fools who open a sports bar in Ravenswood in your name, where frat boys sip on regurgitated urine and talk about their K's... all 401 of them. But you also laugh at all the fools who don't realize that the only book you ever considered good was your first one, the only one not written in the style that made you the patron saint of the fools to begin with. And how can I tell you, Jackie boy, how can I tell anyone that you are the only person in creation who would make me renounce my atheism, just so I could believe in reincarnation, just so I could believe that on cold, dark, rainy nights, sometimes, some-times, you invade me. You bring with you that beat, that sweet sweet beat so full of heat, like the salty meat of my lover's teat.

How can I tell you this, Jack? ‘Cause all you'd do is call me a fool, take another drink, and laugh...

...and laugh and laugh and laugh...