JM

Jack Kerouac was in my head
Again, and I saw him hover
over you, like a father checking
on his baby boy, his son with 
a birthright
But you are Ansel Adams, and
Christiane Amanpour, and you
hang out with the money with no claim to it
For you are a modest man
And you once told me a secret
That I kept only between us
For your height and long legs will take you many places
So you'll sleep on many couches
With rolls of film you said you'd bring from Brooklyn
This world is your oyster
So you should see it at least
And at most listen to the Ink Spots
While you develop film
We liked that one song of theirs
From the Shawshank Redemption
And though it suited you
As you let your hair grow so long, flapping in the wind of the rolled down truck window
Pictures of the lake we shared a summer at
Led you to highs and very special poses
For you are a man, though young
Ready to set the scene
You have Jack and Ansel
Over your shoulders with a pack
And Amanpour in your veins
A lifelong journey ahead
To capture dreams and art and God and freedom
A birthright not wasted
In Brooklyn, far and away


​© Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
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