Jay

(originally published on Coelacanth Magazine, an online literary journal - now defunct)

Arizona hitchhikers beware
those who would betray your hopes
your trust and your vulnerability
by thrusting cold cocked steel in your face
while beside you in the backseat
their pregnant girlfriend
waits for her share

I've been in your worn shoes before
10 dollars short of a fare often paid
with misfortune and fate ganging up
to hijack your hopes
and waylay your wallet

Would that your words could wait another day,
another harsh Hartford night
amongst the addicts
that ruin it for the honest ones
like you.

Your pale sky eyes were lost behind
the grime of a thousand Midwest miles
but your shirt was red from
dye alone.

Twenty-nine wistfully wise old years
encompassing recently accepted sadness,
while San Diego begs for safe returns
to the cycles of the waves upon white sand that
sparkles in the palm tree shaded afternoons
and the occasional
sting-ray.

When I return to the terminal,
to the rows of the busses
and the white-caned passengers
and the apathetic faces of all mankind,
will I see yours among the throng?
Will you have that ticket to a better place?
Will you be slouched across a Greyhound seat
having found your rest at last?
I beg that I should see you myself
onto that bus.

We've begged you years
for the tale that took you 5 to write,
but share alike the truth of East coast
generosity.
Let Hartford be the next-to-final chapter,
please.

©2001 - 2010 Richard Saunders