Hitching

Held down on the side of the road
by baggage with no handles
The storyboard of my life
with a lot of blackwashed panels
still though, I look brightly ahead
with a quick glance behind
in this spot which suspends me
below
where I'd go
If I'd grow
wings and things
to hold me aloft
On the balmy breeze of salvation
I find my imagination
in a flock of procrastination
so I squawk in aggravation
revealing my frustration
with my lack of elevation
over
a bolder
life soldier
better equipped
to absently scoff
at these points in time
I see it as sublime
that every hill I've had to climb
has been repentance for my crime
of wallowing in the acidic slime
of every lie that I've left behind
before
I ignore
what I abhor
as the car that just passed
BEGINS TO PULL OVER!
and pick me up to take me to
my next unstudied roadside view
and my next denial of what I thought I knew
Game face on with nothing to do
Steeling my face, I can't look blue
every word from my mouth feeling so true
but still not leaving as I'm spitting glue
after
the disaster
of losing laughter
like so many numbers
on that dirty bar floor
of that one place
in that one town
on that one road
at that one time
when waiting
didn't suit
my fragile
soul