Hitchhiker

This is my first time linking up with dVerse. I’ve been receiving the emails for months. I have several friends who are regular contributors. This is a new year and a new resolve!

©Ali Skolfield Robinson

©Ali Skolfield Robinson

a hitchhiker
a green canvas cross-body messenger bag
sits low on her left hip
her right thumb is flexed
in a hopeful attitude
ubiquitous ugg boots outside her jeans
her eyes half-closed, no smile

she slumps heavily into the passenger seat
a wisp of a girl
so young and so high
I can’t understand her slurred words
where does she want to go?
she falls asleep
or maybe she died, I don’t know

at a nearby clinic
I coax a nurse to the car
with promises of payment
she pulls up an eyelid
in the young thing’s oversize bag
we find a half-smoked joint
but that’s not what did the damage

the nurse shoots her up with vitamins
and something else that brings her around
no ID in her bag, I don’t know her name
she tells me she doesn’t need a name
I look at her in wonder
do strangers always appear
at exactly the right time?

she’s free and she’s happy, she says
could I take her to the shelter? sure.
she leaves the car with a wave
and a polite thank you
sometimes all I can believe in
is jazz
the up tempo notes of a trumpet

 

Thanks for reading!

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