In Search of Myself

Howl
Drawn crudely on an oak tag sign
Lying in a rusted wagon
Being pulled and followed by people I know
But do not know
I awoke and it all seemed so normal

It snowed in the night
Leaving nearly a foot

The early morning made bright by the low clouds 
Reflecting city lights
Illuminating leafless branches sleeved in snow

Howling winds whip the snow
I think of the word in the wagon
I think of Ginsburg 
And the beat of life

Aware this sounds as crazy as Kerouac
When he wakes in the grass at sundown