transversal hitchhiker

Driving to Wellington 
I met a junked up suitcase 
full of battered books 
hitch hiking 
to met a brokenhearted
pencil benzedrine poet
( a fucking immortal barb on a wire) 
and a penicillin whore 
(to cure his sore weathered cock)

he saw the windows 
of other cars 
were making
gruesome faces at him 
as we cruised 
through the reflecting night

you going to europe
he asked 
I could feel his nose 
poking into my eye 
and I could tell 
he had never come back

I said one day

stop he screamed

he exited stage left 
tottering like a tightrope walker 
on the edge of his rope

I wound down the window 
to let out the travel fumes

suitcase stuck his head in 
his face mashed red 
looking like fresh
road killed tomato 
he screeched

“Billy Joel fuking lied 
vienna don’t wait for anyone 
its like the guddam moon 
if you don’t go 
it’s always that faraway 

as I drove of 
I saw him 
spitball a fish

© bg 2011

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