Note: After I dropped out of high school, I floundered. In my floundering, I met a young man at a alternative high school program and we decided to hitchhike to Kentucky. I was accustomed to hitchhiking and he was accustomed to a far easier life.
We slept by the highway in West Virginia.
I don’t remember how we made it that far.
By morning the gullies of the sleeping bag were filled with snow.
In the few houses strewn beneath the overpass,
we could smell cornbread frying and hear dogs.
Because his parents were wealthy, he was supposed to bring money.
He unrolled a candy bar and a quarter,
his broad shoulders shaking as he wept.
We turned back, a long way from New Jersey.
I knew someone in the splatter of houses would take us in,
and I would have my hand on him
to show he was meek, and slowly nod
to show I was wise.
© 2018 Samn Stockwell
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