The Hitch Hiker
By Ken Simmons
Traveling around this country of ours,
I’ve never met any superstars.
I’ve met however many peaceful men.
who gave me rides and took me in.
My hair disheveled, my clothes tattered and tore,
my body all tired, my feet blistered and sore.
They stopped for my thumb, to give me a ride,
to take me to places I’d yet to decide.
Some in caddies, some an old truck,
they stopped for a man down on his luck.
Some took me to places where I’ve never been,
some to where I won’t go again.
The truckers always wanted someone to talk,
as they sped down the road trying to beat the clock.
Nice farmers always took you to hell knows where,
good luck trying to get a ride out away from there.
Pretty girls picked you up every once in awhile,
they said they stopped because of your smile.
Then there are men with sex on their mind,
the kind that want your little behind.
I loved the road it’s a nice place to be,
there are always new places to go and see.
The road takes you there and it brings you back,
but trains are faster because they run on a track..
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Personal Poems:
The Hobo