“I’m sick. I’m alone, I’m dying-see my hand up-tipped, learn the secret of my human heart, give me the thing, give me your hand, take me to the emerald mountains beyond the city, take me to the safe place, be kind, be nice, smile-I’m too tired now of everything else, I’ve had enough, I give up, I quit, I want to go home, lock me in a safe, take me to where all is peace and amity, to the family of my life, my mother, my father, my sister, my wife and you my brother and you my friend-but no hope, no hope, no hope, I wake up and I’d give a million dollars to be in my own bed- O Lord save me, In evil roads behind gas tanks, where murderous dogs snarl from behind wire fences cruisers suddenly leap out like getaway cars but from a crime more secret, more baneful than words can tell.
The woods are full of wardens.”
Jack Kerouac, “The Vanishing American Hobo”, 1960.
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