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.”