8/16/93- Brace

                                                    8/29/93
 
                 Y- something
 
 A journey through the many faces of California
 So much like scrolling over
 A role playing map in a video game
 
 Desert heat- American country
 Mountain air- lunar lake
 City fear- charming port
 Air forest- no man's land
 Forced farms- magic kingdoms
 
 Taking my time as fast as I could
 The eventuality of my eyes giving up
 
 I pulled off for a half hour, no longer
 There was no sleeping in between
 My neck cried for midnight
 While the travelers came up for air and found none
 It was a day when fluids existed for only moments
 
 He sat in the rare shade of the arid rest stop
 As I began to leave, gently accosted
     for a few cigarettes
 His face narrow, the width of footsteps beneath his tight white beard
 He had been there for two whole days, looking for a ride
 Where was he going?
   "South..."
 That was good enough for me.
 
 In a life with passengers few
 His place beside me was assured
 By that rare bond of kindred spirits
 With the patience of a hitchhiker
 And the drive of a serious walker
 The bondage of his highway freedom propelled him
 Just as sure as I did in my little V-8
 His transient values made so much more sense
 Than the societies that we discussed
 
 A broken ankle provided by nature's ill wind
 Adjusted his mode and slowed him
 Having to depend on others for his vehicle
 I considered my patience
 Could I spend six days on a freeway on ramp?
 Could I listen to my need to go where I need to be?
 Could I wait a second longer?
 
 
As I released him from my grasp
 I mentioned that the journey was the destination
 And he said
   "Yeah, I'm finding that out... can I get a few more cigarettes?"
 
 Now to try to get over the shame
Of forgetting his exotic sounding name
 I write of yet another roadside chance meeting.