I Thought I Would Move Poem by Clete Peters

I thought I would move
Like Kerouac
New York, Miami, Denver,
And all of the highway flops
In between

I thought I would write
Like Hemingway
Concise, knife sharp apologues
Of booze, brawls, love
And the hunt for the perfect café

I thought I would speak
Like Twain
Immaculate yarns
Of life death
And the human condition

Instead I move like a sloth
From a low rent suburban dump
To a clock punching
Mindless grind
My Eden, an alcohol soaked
Desolation of my own design