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Figureless and frowzy
 Sleeping by (the side of) the road
 In and out of wakefulness
 Waiting 
   an outstretched thumb
   a hitchhiker in the wrong galaxy.

This is no Kerouac "On the Road"
  No way to jump a freight train 
   through the Dust Bowl.
We don't take kindly to strangers passing through our parts.
  A blind eye on the misfortunate.

Once, it was easier
  or so they say
Pack your knapsack, grab your bedroll
  Catch a ride on the back of an old Ford or Chevy
Watch the miles roll on by
Sleep under the stars.

Make some pocket change by 
  doing odd jobs
  before the time of 
  applications, mandatory social security numbers, resumes, references
When a day of hard labor might earn you a meal
  and a shed for overnight shelter
  and see you gone at dawn.

Was it this way?
Loose borders, less questions
Take a name, not a number
Sail the seas, pick a port
Hike on.

I don't know.
I was born long after those attainable aimless days.

Weary traveling wanderer 
   by the side of the road
Where's your destination?
  Back in time?
  Or forward into tomorrow's unwritten exposition?
How will you get there
  If no one trusts enough to extend a hand
    or a ride
    or a dime
   to your journey?
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