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Book of Sketches - Jack Kerouac [57]

By Root 360 0
city. Man and son cross road, wearing

green Sabbath fez caps, like papercup cakes

good nuf to eat — I think I’m sposed to be

alive — I dont see anything around — Drops

of whitewash on this red concrete plaza with

the whitewashed tower by the sea for

Muezzins of the Sherifian Star — The

other night, here, Arab bagpipes —

Spring is coming —

Yep, all that equipment

For sighs


ZOCO CHICO — TANGIERS —

a weird Sunday in Fellaheen

Arabland with you’d expect

mystery white windows &

do see but b God the broad

up there in whiten

my-veil is sitting & peering

by a Red Cross, above a lil

sign says PRACTICANTES

Servicio Permanente

TF NO.9766

the cross being red — this

is over a tobacco shop

with luggage & pictures,

a little barelegged boy

leaning on counter with a

family of wristwatched

Spaniards — Limey sailors

from the submarines pass

trying to get drunker & drunker

yet quiet & lost in home

regret & two little Arab

hepcats have a brief musical

confab (boys of 10) & they

part with a push of arms

& wheeling of arms, the cat

has a yellow skullcap &

a blue zoot suit

I am now hi on

MAHOUN

MAHOUN

Cakes of kief boiled with

spices & candies —

eaten with hot tea —

the black & white tiles

of the outdoor cafe

are soiled by lonely

Tangiers time — A

little bald cropped

boy walks by, goes

to men at table,

says “Yo!” then

the waiter throws

him out, “Yig” —

A brown ragged robe

priest sits with me at

table, but looks

off with hands

on lap at brilliant

red fez & red girl

sweater & red boy

shirt green scene


RAILROAD BUFFET IN AVIGNON

A priest who looks exactly

like Bing Crosby but with a long gray beard,

chewing bread, then rushes out, with beret and

briefcase. . . . .


PARIS SIDEWALK CAFE

Now, on sidewalk in

sun, the racket of going-to-work same as

in Houston or in Boston and no better —

But it is a vast promise I feel here, endless

streets, stores, girls, places, meanings, I can

see why Americans stay here — First

man in Paris I looked at was a dignified

Negro gentleman in a homburg — The human

types are endless, old French ladies, Malayan

girls, schoolboys, blond student boys, tall

young brunettes, hippy pimply secretaries,

beret’d goggled clerks, beret’d scarved

earners of milk bottles, dikes in long blue

laboratory coats, frowning older students striding

in trench coats like Boston, seedy little

rummy cops fishing thru their pockets (in

blue caps), cute pony tailed blondes in high

heels with zip notebooks, goggled bicyclists

with motors attached, bespectacled homburgs

walking reading Le Parisien, bushy headed

mulattos with long cigarettes in mouth,

old ladies carrying milkcans & shopping bags,

rummy WCFieldses spitting in the gutter hands

a pockets going to their printing shop for

another day, a young Chinese looking French

girl of 12 with separated teeth looking

Like she’s in tears (frowning, & with a bruise

on her shin, schoolbooks in hand, cute and

serious like Mardou), porkpie executive

running and catching bus sensationally

vanishing with it, mustached long haired

Italian youths, regular types coming in

the bar for their morning shot of wine,

huge bumbling bankers in expensive suits

fishing for newspaper pennies in their

palms (bumping into women at the bus

stop), piped jews with packages, a

lovely redhead with dark glasses pip pip

pip on her heels trots to work bus, a

waitress slopping mop water in the old old

gutter, ravishing brunettes with tightfitting

skirts succeeding in making you want to

grab their rounded ass (tho they dont deign

to look), goofely plup plup schoolgirlies

with long boyish bobs plirping lips over

books & memorizing lessons fidgetly, lovely

young girls of 17 on corners who walk

off with low-heeled sure-strides in long

red coats to downtown Paris smokepot

Old Napoleon wonders — leading a dog,

an apparent East Indian, whistling, with

books — bearded bus riders riding to

accounting school — dark similar-lipped

serious young lovers, boy arming girlshoulders

— statue of Danton pointing nowhere

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