picked up a hitchhiker
one bitter day standing
on an exit ramp like
a statue wearing a plaid
shirt, jeans, tenner shoes
and looking quite red,
but I don’t think
he was a communist.
He didn’t say much,
sizing me up, no doubt
thinking I was a ****.
So I offered him a
Marlboro and said that I
once dated a girl who
lived nearby, right behind
Jessup’s Cut ha, ha, ha.
He said that’s where he was
coming from, dead serious, on
his way to Glen Burnie.
I peeled off my coat at the
first red light and laid it
on the seat between us,
“Take it, I’ve got another.”
He gave me a look that
said it would be beneath
his dignity. Maybe
taking my clothes off made
him nervous and so I
said it would be pretty
stupid to freeze to death
first day out of the Cut.
“I guess so, he said,” then
took the coat and hopped out,
probably thinking
I was a communist.