I'm walking alone,down the long
street, midnight the moon shines
high, a pale moon, and wan with
the sickly light of the thousand
thousand city lights jewling the
streets and lanes and alleys of the
great city so prettily, seen far off,
a conflagration of multicolored
stars brought to earth, shining amidst
the vast lonley dark of the plains in
the night under the stars and the
pulsing moon, like a great halved radish,
red around the edges, from drink,
from laughter, from the lack of sleep
and the joy of the knowledge that
everything exists and that we are alive
right now and roaring, yelling up under the
madly glittering lights, circling circling,
all around us over our heads, and now the
most awful roaring of sound and of
smell and of sheer surging drunken glory
and then black, and the sleep of the abandoned,
of the holy ones who live raw and free
and mad and idioticly, wild in our sheer
shining distinct lack of soberity, and of the
great rationizer, common sense be ******
and sleep until the shine of morning comes
dawning over the horizon, and shines in our
eyes and makes us cry out, and up to the
business of the day, to the long mad glorious
trek onwards, ever onwards, and all a great mad
comedy of life rovolving around and around,
and on we go, on, on till death do us part,
sweet love affair, the road and I and us and everyone
apart from the masses, crazily determined,
singly in our passion, to walk and love and
sing and yell and drink under the moon,
not a care in the world, and on and on and
on and on, till death do us part, my dear
projected love.