I hitched a ride early last month.
The driver wore a smile and a sunny disposition.
The vehicle smelled of old socks and spoiled meat.
I knew I was in the right place
When I saw my friends had already been here.
The ride was bumpy.
The road unpaved.
The sky above me
Partly cloudy with a chance of rain.
The driver turned sharply around each bend
And sped through each straightaway.
The oncoming traffic approached quickly
And soon whizzed by with a loud sound
And the occasional horn blow.
The driver laughed at me each time.
I would shriek out of fear
That I would fall out the back hatch.
I would cling to the railings
And would try hard to enjoy the ride.
Road construction ahead
The sign read.
Not meaning to jostle me from my seat in the back
The driver slammed on his brakes and swerved
Narrowly missing the oncoming semi heading our way.
I fell off the wagon
But I am still hanging on the tailgate.
As I am dragged through the rough street
I think about letting go.
I am slowly losing my grip.
Where is this wagon heading?
Why am I still holding on?
