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!

Wednesday, November 10, 2021

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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