I Love Kurt Cobain And Hate Toby Keith

I was walking through
Sunlit and lonely Melvindale,
Which for all intents and purposes
Is mystical Detroit,
And I was thinking about Susan,
Somewhere sad in Pennsylvania.

Boys were playing football,
Which made me lonesome
For Scott and Leroy,
Childhood companions
Lost in time!
A tall mother watering the lawn
Was goddess-like.

Does anyone love Li Po?
Where is Han Shan?
I’d kiss Susan beneath a Maple Tree
If she’d let me read to her
Mexico City Blues by Jack Kerouac.