I don’t write in a journal everyday, but I have accumulated many entries over the past 50+ years beginning in 1966. Some items evolved into longer works. Among the leftovers little pieces survived. I thought a collection of these with a piece culled from the same date in a past year would make an interesting yearbook. The consistencies and inconsistencies of mind, skipping back and forth across time, provide varied perspectives. It is difficult to remember the context of the past we’ve lived; we also make suppositions about times that predate ourselves.

The few alterations from original drafts were to improve clarity. The worst of my work is not included. There remains enough mediocrity and immaturity to make me feel humble and you feel smart. There are also moments of accidental insight and incidental humor.

Author Stephen Crane referred to his little pieces as pills…apparently they were small and somewhat hard to swallow, but good for you.


Comments Welcome!

Sunday, November 10, 2019

hitch-hiker


November 10, 1970  (I was 25)

         hitch-hiker
I gave a man a ride today
he said he was fifty-six
I only knew he had an old mouth
said he’d slept outside last night
only had a cup of coffee
and that was yesterday morning
We talked of hitch-hiking and I lied
for one reason or another
about understanding what it was to be fifty-six and
on the road  Then rather than lie some more
I stopped talking and listened
Now with Nixon was like then with Hoover
It’s hell to get a job when you’re fifty-six
Unloaded a lot of frozen beef in Oakland
working for those damned Texans who never worked
will barely give you a rag
and won’t buy you a cup of coffee
California is filled to the brim with people
who thought it would be something better
and people think because you’re 56 and hitch-hiking
you got a gun and want to rob them
They never think maybe you want to go somewhere
I dropped him at Big Daddy’s  He took a quarter and said
“Both ways”

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