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?