A hitch hiker sits atop his
Battered leather suitcase
Layered with the stickers of
Each and every one of his destinations
Creating some kind of scaly hide
For that dead container
He drags with him always.
His head’s hung towards his shoes
Or what’s left them
And his right arm is propped up on his
Knee, with the thumb outstretched
Just resting along the on ramp for
I-76
The only thing that he wants is help
And the only help he’s had is the cool breeze
That follows the cars passing him
But just as he begins to fear heat stroke
Or sever hallucinations brought on by dehydration
A battered GM pickup slows to a stop on the
Gravel next to the ramp.
He has to rub his eyes to make sure this
Isn’t some sort of delirium
Then hefts his suitcase and rushes towards
The rusting pickup
The owner has one of those John Deer caps
Tipped up on his forehead and a rolled
Cigarette hanging from his lips
He doesn’t even bother to look at
His new guest he just stares intently at the
Wheel.
“Thank you sir for the ride, I wasn’t sure if
Anyone out here even cared about people
Looking to make a new start.”
The drivers head just hangs limp
But the corner of his mouth curls up
And he responds,
“Some of us ‘round here
We just want a good ending. Something
To light up the eyes.”
Then gravel sprays.
Our traveler holds his suitcase on his lap
Both fists gripping the worn handle
Just beneath his chin
And his mind it worries over this
Unusual character with whom he’s
Now trapped.
Still focused intently on the road
These two travel alone in silence
Finally the man with the John deer cap
Turns his head and quietly asks
“Do you believe in God?”
“It depends on what you call belief
I guess”
The passengers’ wary response
While the smile on the drivers face widens
And he continues
“He has a plan for all of us
Whether we like it or not
He got some great idea or mission
That we were intended to complete.”
The passenger just stares for a moment
Wondering if the man will continue
Then he feels it’s safe to speak and says
“That’s what those guys who wear robes say
That there is some divine goal assigned to each
Of us
Just sometimes I wonder what mine is.”
The man finally turns his head
And stares at his new guest
“Oh he, he has a plan for you
He wouldn’t have had me find you
If he didn’t.
Would you believe me if I told you
He commanded me to stop for you?”
“This I find hard to believe,
All I’m doing is looking for someplace
To start over
To not be judged
For my past.”
At this point the passenger noticed that
His driver hadn’t looked back
To the road
“He will forgive and you won’t
Be judged. All you need do is ask.”
Still staring dead at the man
“I will ask in my own time
What I’ve done is between me
And God.”
Hoping he would turn his head
“Oh yes, what you’ve done
He told me this too
You’re a liar, and a thief
Not a major sinner
But in need of atonement.”
Still staring at the man
And there was a turn coming
It looked like there was a ravine
Just past the rail
“Yes you need to repent and
Beg the Lord for forgiveness!
You humble fools think he is kind
But this is only for the deserving!
This God is cruel and he feels as if there
Are other gods in your pitiful life
And he is vindictive!”
The truck was gaining speed
“Thank you sir for this conversation
But I’m ready to get out.”
Hand tugging on the latch
But it won’t open
“Oh, he has a plan.”
And the laughter starts
While the truck runs forward
And the door won’t open
The passenger starts to
Swing for the driver
But somehow he can’t reach him
Then the inevitable collision
Sounds
And the vehicle is weightless
For just a moment.
Hanging from the rear view mirror
Is a rosary looking suspended in mid air
The passenger reaches out for it
And the truck collides with the earth
The world spinning is merely a blur
While the sounds of metal twisting
Fills the air
And
The hitchhikers’ eyes snap wide
And he’s sitting on his suitcase
Along the on ramp for I-76 with
His thumb outstretched
And his head hung towards his feet.
But clenched in the fist with the thumb
Protruding is a string of rosary
Beads with the cross dangling
And at his feet is an oily John Deer
Cap
In the distance the old man wheezes
“Oh, he has a plan.”
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 7:55 AM UTC
There is a cross
Overgrown
In a stand of trees
Next to the bank
Where
The Tigress and Euphrates
Became a sea
Upon this splintering frame
Hangs a sign
Bleeding from the weight
Of the name
These nails must bear
It marks the gate
Where an angel once stood
To remind us all
What we left behind
But there is still life here
They welcome you with open hands
Grab you by your weary shoulders
And usher you inside
Sweet melodies fill this place
There is dancing
And shouting
A constant celebration
Of what we call
Mankind
All rejoice the fact
That all they need
Is at their fingertips
Everything to make
Everyone feel
Identical
And here you sit surrounded by
These dancing fools
In silent awe
When into your hands
They place a
Fruit
You peel back the skin
And find that
This is filled with
Color coded
Pills
Share our food
Share our feast
We love you
Don’t you see?
And so teeth sink in
Finding home
In this forbidden fruit
Here in the garden
Where
The Tigress and Euphrates
Overflowed
There stand a cross
Bearing the name Eden
It is the last marking point
Showing where humanity
Washed away from
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 7:52 AM UTC
He thinks to himself
Keep your head down
No eye contact
Just work your
Way there
And finish this torment
His hands are shaking
In his trench coat pocket
And they rattle a loose coin
Against the metal of the
Snub nosed revolver
Carelessly tossed
Into its current place
There is a little boy
Walking alongside him
Just a smaller version
Of this man
Only wearing a faded orange
Winter coat
That’s getting a little too small
The boy looks up
At his father
And says
‘I’m hungry
When do we get
To eat?’
The man shoves his
Hands into the coat pockets
And cradles the revolver
‘Soon, son,
We just have to stop
And get some money
First.’
The boy looks down at the
Top of his battered converse
And mutters the response
‘But my stomach hurts.’
The man stops
And turns to face the boy
‘If I had something to give you
I would
But I’m starving too
And I’m the only one
Who even tries
To get us money.’
The boys’ eyes well up
With tears
And he has
No response
The man doesn’t notice
Those tear drops
Falling in front of
His sons’ shoes
The next words
He spits at the boy are
‘Go wait for me
Across the street.
I want you to watch
And learn
How to take care
Of your family.’
So the boy waits for the
Signal to cross the street
Then the orange hand
Switches to the
White walking man
And he follows orders
The man watches the boy
Trudge across the intersection
And sit down at the
Bus stop
Then the elder works
His way down the street
To the nearest alley
And leans next to its
Entrance
He checks once more
Making sure his son
Hasn’t moved
Then takes to watching
Pedestrians
On their way to work
The boy feels
His stomach
Gnawing on the
Inside of his ribcage
But averts his gaze
Back to his father
There is a brief
Moment of panic
When the he
Can’t find his
Guardian
But then
Discovers him
Leaning against
A wall just down
The block
His father seems to
Be studying the
People walking past him
Looking for something
Specific
Then a man in an
Expensive suit
Passes in front
Of his Father
And both disappear
Into the shadows
Time seems to slow
For only a moment
The boy wonders
What his father is doing
Then a gunshot sounds
The expensive suit
Stumbles from the alley
The snub nosed pistol
Shaking in his hand
Screaming for the police
And the boy still
Waits
Patiently for his
Father to bring him
Breakfast
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 7:50 AM UTC
Dogs chasing cars in the dark
But when the brake lights flare
All the driver hears
Is the dull thump of a
Confused animal
Running headlong into the bumper
So he gets out of the car
And walks to the back
Closely observing this
Animal stopped in his track
What would the dog do
If it could catch the car
Would it want to be friends
Or would it tear it apart
All this he wonders
And so he asks
But the mutt it just stares
Eyes blank and confused
It is still wondering
What earned this abuse
So the man continues
His inflamed interrogation
Laying question mark after
Question mark upon
The bewildered beast
Hardly leaving time for
Its’ quivering muzzle to speak
Finally he pauses
Needs to regain his air
Then the dog it looks at him
Locking him in its stare
Slowly it crawls
Off the cold concrete
Never looking from his eyes
He holds its gaze
Awaiting a response
Demanding an excuse
For this waste of time
Feral eyes hold steady
And peer into the cavity of his soul
Hatred starts to soften
Just before the loss of self control
Finally, to repay and answer
Mans inquisition
This dog chased after
The next city bus on a mission
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 7:25 AM UTC