on it was painted a replica of the concert tickets, and the names Sal and Laura and Remi and Vicki,the girl, together with a series of sad jokes and some of his favorite sayings such as .You can’t teachthe old maestro a new tune..So Dean couldn’t ride uptown with us and the only thing I could do was sit in the back of theCadillac and wave at him. The bookie at the wheel also wanted nothing to do with Dean. Dean,ragged in a moth-eaten overcoat he brought specially for the freezing temperatures of the East,178walked off alone, and the last I saw of him he rounded the corner of Seventh Avenue, eyes on thestreet ahead, and bent to it again. Poor little Laura, my baby, to whom I’d told everything aboutDean, began almost to cry..Oh, we shouldn’t let him go like this. What’ll we do?. Old Dean’s gone, I thought, and out loudI said, .He’ll be all right.. And off we went to the sad and disinclined concert for which I had nostomach whatever and all the time I was thinking of Dean and how he got back on the train and rodeover three thousand miles over that awful land and never knew why he had come anyway, except tosee me.So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching thelong, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulgeover to the West Coast, and all that road going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and inIowa I know by now the children must be crying in the land where they let the children cry, andtonight the stars’ll be out, and don’t you know that God is Pooh Bear? the evening star must bedrooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of completenight that blesses the earth, darkens all rivers, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, andnobody, nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old,I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of Old Dean Moriarty the father we never found, I think ofDean Moriarty.22天天读书网(www.book.d78i.com)整理