Bad Trips

Sixties memoir.
Bad Trips: I went from Florida up to Maine, from Fairbanks to the border of Mexico. After awhile it was all the same, and there was nowhere to go. Back in the city I changed my ways, had a girl, but she left me alone. They threw me in jail for seven days, when I tried to get home. I hunted for snakes out in the yard and tied their necks in a knot. I caught dragonflies in a jar and boiled them in a pot. Mother ran off with all the loot and hid in some junk cars. She took along the soup to boot, a poison picnic under the stars. I went insane and my face turned black, ribbons of rayon, a cuckolding stew. I caught the snake and broke its back, for telling me what to do.