34-37 Degrees South - 2023

Go Go
Jonathan Cant
I FLY west in a Rocket 88,
I take the open road—Route 66
—my freedom ride. I’d escaped from AA,
just enough cash for Mexican XX.
On the highway, Illinois to La La
Land with its tanned band of sand where can-can
dancers in cages do time in Sing Sing.
Such a fan: wish I coulda seen J.J.
Cale play Cocaine or those Texans—ZZ
Top—headline at the Whisky a Go Go
in WeHo on a go-slow, ain’t so-so.
Ah, the clear waters of Bora Bora!
Take me there, or give me Lomaloma.
Catch the seaplane back to Savusavu.
Leave Vanua Levu to write bang-bang
headlines, eat phô soup and sip cold Ba Ba
beer on Old Saigon boulevards. Didi
outta there and home to mama Curl Curl
or south to ski powder at Mount Baw Baw
or north to ride the cane train at Bli Bli—
I have kin there, but no kin in Kin Kin.
Never Never seen the lights at Min Min.
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