I Want to be a Beat Poet

coz then my chick would do
the washing‐up and I could work
on the last line of my haiku.
Later, I could get rat‐brain stoned
and spit out random words
and everyone would admire
my brilliant mind.

Of course, these things go
in cycles and you must capture
the essence, not mirror the form,

especially these days, now that
we've swung right back to the 50s