(written in 4 minutes, for reasons unclear. miracle is, it's somewhat sensical)
Hitchhiker Without a Face
Driving by the road, there's another man
listening by the radio held firmly in his hand
claps along with Scott Joplin, and
rags away the time
he asks me to get hitched, and that, today, seems fine.
He wanders to my four-door and
thanks me for my kindness
his is a sullen, grizzled glare that
softens a moment to fondness
I ask where can I drop him
he whispers ‘any place’
his eyes are twitching nervous
- he's a man without escape
I collect my wits and step the pedal
the roadway is our task
men who drive, must arrive alive
with seltbelts firmly clasped
the hours melt like snowflakes that my windshield wipes aside
the cars droning are, my passenger moaning
his fishlike exterior quietly deboning
I’m pondering his faceless hide
Suddenly, yow - a crack of lightning brights the dash!
us riders scream and lurch
I yelp a fast reliable prayer (– that’s funny,
I’m not a man so easily churched)
Don’t wonder what happened the morning after, when the hitchhiker left the road
My bags were stolen and interior soiled,
with foul sausage slims and empty whisky skins, and so
it’s clear that man was no Tom Joad.
(missing a few stanzas methinks?)
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