sgmonotony

I LOVE THIS POEM
As an individual who has hitchhiked coast to coast, it resonates

Advice to Hitchhikers

for Jason B. who lived in a cave for five months.



One in five will ask for oral sex,
what color underwear youre wearing.
Bet on it; but keep your money
in your shoe. Slink off the road
within ten miles of bookstores
where no one reads. Read
bumper stickers before climbing in
--avoid the NRA if you have pink hair.
Carry a pocketknife but do not hurt
anyone as long as you can run. America
will hide you, which is why
these highways need striding.
The curb is harder than your couch,
and you might miss your kitchen--
clean spoons that curve your face above soup--
but Ramen noodles are seven-for-a-dollar,
will fill you if eaten uncooked.
People will stare wherever you go,
or yell from passing trucks.
Take anything they offer. Accept
their food, inhale their smoke
and hold it, catch their diseases.
You are no one, walk as fast as you can.


appeared originally on the Poetry SuperHighway