This book is dedicated to Jan Kerouac, the late daughter of Jack Kerouac who I knew well in the 60’s in Yelapa, Mexico, with the hippies, 30 miles from any road. She lived in a thatched hut next to mine there. I remember seeing later, in the English, Mexico City News, “Jack Kerouac’s Daughter, Jan Kerouac, has disappeared, whereabouts unknown.” The first poem in the book is a poem I wrote to the spirit of Jan. Here is a small quote from that poem: “We know the significance of us being a piece of the big puzzle but we don’t see all the pieces together melded as one demur picture…we seem so separate, but so cock-sure. "Things slip by,” don’t they Jan? My memory is flashing…this wheel is on fire!“ The first chapter of her Memoirs, "Baby Driver,” is like a recording tape of everything she had echoed to me in casual conversation. I think she thought things out in plots from the very beginning. You can find out more about me by going to: http: //sanfranciscopoetry.blip.tv http: //mysticbabylon.podomatic.com http: //littlebirdtoldme.podomatic.com http: //poetryhotel.podomatic.com (A collaboration of videos with poetess friend Clara Hsu) http: //writerunion.podomatic.com (Unofficial San Francisco Writers Union videos produced by me.)