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.”

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

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

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