Hitching

I sang for an hour once
while thumbing on a road
that cut through California redwoods.

 

The sober trees
made me feel silly,
and the acoustics were bad.

 

A blond in a red sportscar stopped,
so I prepped myself
for whatever degree of insanity I was in for
as I trotted to the car.

 

Her dilemma involved a carpenter and a star.
Said she loved them both.

My farsightedness allowed me
to read the sign from way back:

 

San Francisco
250 miles.

 

I thought of something to say:

"The best place to sing while hitching
is under an overpass."

 

Her breasts stood-out
as she straightened her back,
pulled over, returned me
to the formal wilderness,
then did a u-turn
to get the something
she said she forgot.

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saiom's picture

reaction

one of 10 million varieties of rejection..

all of them painful

 

they say that painful incidents create deeper grooves

in the brain than joyful ones