oh, ghost

i met gary on the train to emeryville.  he must have been on speed but he said he was stoned, drunk, talking 300 miles a minute.  couldn’t finish a sentence telling me i’m gorgeous that's why his eyes are dilating having a smoke on the platform.  i’d wanted to read my book all the way to san francisco but i decided as annoying as he was, he must be kerouac’s ghost or reincarnated, oh dharma or something, looked like him, talked like him and i couldn’t get rid of him i’m too nice.  dirty jokes, how he’s traveled, been blessed, a young dancer and thespian given up for more money in sales, he keeps leaning forward getting in my personal space, or pleading with me or something.  won’t stop talking about san francisco, he’s gonna walk right into chinatown and eat all the dim sum he can, then to tenderloin for pakistani curry dinner.  all the sex he had last night on viagra some pills, he’s so glad he had sex last night he tells me.  he’s going sacramento - san francisco - san diego and i need another cigarette myself.  as he left he said “may your house be too small to hold all the people in it.”  amen i said and “i love life!” he shouts as he stepped on the platform in richmond.  goodbye gary.