America

I read this in the early days,
when youthful spring and optimism shone on the dancing waters
where my soul cried in th' city, where my heart leapt for glory,
the kind you could savour like the glory of your car keys,
like the glory of new kittens,
like the glory of walkin' down the street lovin people,
the glory of feeling the pavement, my feet ecstatic with dances unfathomed,
and my poor eyes filled with lust on the subway where my peers stretch out and SURRENDER
carried away with the click clack of appointments, rendezvous
stop signs and buskers, all the great distractions of the universe
conspiring against me
continuously
AND I LET THEM.
Oh The Glory!

America by Allen Ginsberg

at an inspired poetry reading somewhere, way back, even before The Beatles.