This is a chorus from Mexico City Blues. There's a point in this book where Kerouac hits his stride and can do no wrong.
My father in downtown red
walked around like a shadow
of ink black, in hat, nodding,
in the immemorial lights of my dreams.
One of the lines I like the most is "straw hat, newspaper in pocket, liquor on the breath, barbershop shine." It just defines an image through four associated facts.