~~~ “Poetry doesn’t know: The air conditioner Not in use in winter Is like my hopes— Half in, half out.” —Jack Kerouac, from “Richmond Hill Blues” (Book of Blues) I have no air conditioner. No dishwasher. I have no washing machine. I am half in, half out—don’t take pity on me because I don’t cook down suburban roads in an SUV. I want no mercy meals from anyone— not even Kerouac. He’s dead. I am sitting in my own lap topped to wait for the right moment to cast a warm glow. ~~~