Song for Highway 91

[JacobPike]

Song for Highway 91

That trucker isn't coming back, I'd guess,
the one who said he'd pick us up once
he had cleared dispatch. It's just as well.
His cab was far too small for three.

A concrete berm, far southeast edge
of Hartford. Well past midnight, maybe two.
Stars slowly wheel above us, piercing
fetid air. The passing trucks
baptize with icy wash. We wave our "Philly...please!" sign
like a vain flag of surrender. While, around us,
all the nation sleeps, from sea to darkened sea.

My courderoy sportcoat is no match
for late October cold. I should have dressed more carefully.
But, then, who thought we'd get this far? Not me.

I wonder what we look like to those
driving past? Two young men...large...
somewhat unkempt. A brutal crime
waiting to happen? ("Why, they seemed such nice boys,"
I hear someone say.) But there are no tourists
at this hour, no anxious mothers
rushing home. Right now, the only ones out there
are toughened men hard-bound somewhere. Or
maybe bound for nowhere - much the same.
We are no risk to them, nor they to us.

And at this moment, by this berm,
I am no longer student, christian, son.
I'm not the one who bears my name.
All I am is what I carry
on my back
and in my head.

The dawn will be upon us soon, to
stain the horizon in a dirty glow. Another ride
will come. But, for the moment, I'm content
to wait along this highway berm,
the endpoint of my given life,
a secret to this sleeping land.

June 11, 2005

[superconnected]

1. Reminds me of a trip I took to NYC in my late teens.

Except being female people only wanted to help me and my friend, not consider we were going to hurt them.

Thanks for sharing Jacobpike.

[JacobPike]

2. Thanks

Personally, I would think a couple of teenage girls would be at a lot more risk than I and my travelling companion ever could be.

Of course, there were some interesting times for us, too. Like the guys in the van that picked us up on 128 outside of Boston, with the driver and his friend consuming at least one six-pack each between the Mass Turnpike and Route 3. Or the southbound ride from Manchester to Boston which included a very unexpected detour to play "let's make a dope deal." Or almost getting hauled in by New Jersey's finest at one of the NYC bridges (no connection to the above incident ;-) ); while we avoided arrest, our driver got ticketed for picking us up.

Did you ever write anything about your trip?

[superconnected]

3. no I didn't

compared to yours, it was uneventful.