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September |
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a poem by Jocko Benoit
THE PASSENGER
Sorry about the mess -- I guess there's
No room for your feet. What a stormy night
To be hitching. Your hair is full of raindrops.
Bad idea -- any serial killer could pick you up.
I saw a TV show saying these guys
Aren't mean -- they just don't feel
Other people are real. Think they're the center
Of the universe. You can give them all
The fancy words you want -- I know evil when
I see it. If you want to fix your face just use
The rear view. Now you seem like
A good person, but you can't trust too many.
Hell, friends have hurt me in places
A psychopath wouldn't know to look.
You learn to trust your own judgment.
You know, the rain must've stopped.
Windshield's already dirty. That makes it
Hard going. I drive the car a lot -- it's the
Only place I feel at peace, where I've got
Control of things again. In the end,
We're all out here alone. You know?
Damn -- no matter how much I turn up
The heat it's freezing in here. Do you
Have your window down? I like those
Sparkles in your hair -- kind of a broken halo.
Just come from a big party? That explains
Those sirens I heard back there.
Teenagers just can't control themselves.
I love parties, but there's not many
To go to now with everyone married,
Raising brats. I'll bet your folks don't get
Out much, do they? Think about that --
Kids never give parents consideration
Or respect. Or maybe you're the quiet type --
Moody one, I'll bet. Thinks the whole world
Is against you. Oh, now I see where
The draft is from: that huge hole
In the windshield when you came through it.
What do you expect, jumping in front
Of someone like that? Here, have a little
Something to warm you up. Look, it's pretty,
The lights on the bottle and in your hair
Flashing red and blue and clear
Red and blue and clear.
No room for your feet. What a stormy night
To be hitching. Your hair is full of raindrops.
Bad idea -- any serial killer could pick you up.
I saw a TV show saying these guys
Aren't mean -- they just don't feel
Other people are real. Think they're the center
Of the universe. You can give them all
The fancy words you want -- I know evil when
I see it. If you want to fix your face just use
The rear view. Now you seem like
A good person, but you can't trust too many.
Hell, friends have hurt me in places
A psychopath wouldn't know to look.
You learn to trust your own judgment.
You know, the rain must've stopped.
Windshield's already dirty. That makes it
Hard going. I drive the car a lot -- it's the
Only place I feel at peace, where I've got
Control of things again. In the end,
We're all out here alone. You know?
Damn -- no matter how much I turn up
The heat it's freezing in here. Do you
Have your window down? I like those
Sparkles in your hair -- kind of a broken halo.
Just come from a big party? That explains
Those sirens I heard back there.
Teenagers just can't control themselves.
I love parties, but there's not many
To go to now with everyone married,
Raising brats. I'll bet your folks don't get
Out much, do they? Think about that --
Kids never give parents consideration
Or respect. Or maybe you're the quiet type --
Moody one, I'll bet. Thinks the whole world
Is against you. Oh, now I see where
The draft is from: that huge hole
In the windshield when you came through it.
What do you expect, jumping in front
Of someone like that? Here, have a little
Something to warm you up. Look, it's pretty,
The lights on the bottle and in your hair
Flashing red and blue and clear
Red and blue and clear.
© by Jocko Benoit
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #23 ~ Sept 2012
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