An obnoxious radio
A stranger
An interstate
                             home
A truck stop
A blue volvo
A river
                   moving like a silver lady
under the body of a rapist

of home now
“home”
of friends
and places
etched on me in the black night
of unconscious
surfacing

“Hitchhiking’s good for the
soul,” he says, the stranger.

At least it’s obtainable.