Walking Alone in ‘81
by John Gregory Evans
© 5/17/2020 2:53:22 AM
How many rides, were you offered today?
Met a stranger with a heart full of compassion?
One I’d say, but, other than that
It just ain’t happening!
These foreign guests
within an illusory homeland
Was there one who lifted you in friendship?
Or, do women merely come and go?
Life is not fair.
What voices lay in ruins
of a dead man walking
while inhaling square upon square,
friends, strangers really.
In ’72 one spit on me back from the war.
How many congested thoughts, of failure?
raise their thorny heads? All the while
reading Venceremos! feeling dead.
Do you remember, the cop?
who rendered a ride?
Shaving ten miles off your path?