half a highway story

about the time
we split-up hitchhiking
near toledo
on the ohio turnpike
the afternoon was droopy
sinking like a last gasp
of summer
1965

we took our turns
at the entrance ramp
     finally
     each of us being singly
     picked up & thrown
     down the highway
some miles closer to chicago
what seemed like incremental lapses
passing thru the rain and darkest
of indiana

the steel mills of gary & east chicago
rose to meet a glimpse of dawn
beneath an acid sky
my ride      a salesman downing the last
of his jim beam whiskey
disguising his condition
     i've often thought many times
whether death of a salesman
unrelated as it might be
ever met him halfway

not sure how i found a commuter train
to the west side of chicago
in time to make a meeting
but it happened
just that way

and even if
i was late
(oddly each of us arrived minutes apart)
     certainly
     the revolution would
     go on without us

--- e b bortz