Figureless and frowzy
Sleeping by (the side of) the road
In and out of wakefulness
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
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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