Riding into town
I thought I'd follow a prompt from the September issue of Writing Magazine, and write a poem about a hitchhiker. It's something I used to do while I was university, to save the bus fare into town. The hitching point was conveniently sited opposite the underpass where the buses stopped, so if you weren't lucky enough to get a free ride you could always run down to the bus stop when you saw the bus coming. In the seventies, Trusting, perhaps naive, I often stood on the grassy bank Opposite the underpass Thumb raised against the northern chill, To catch the eye of each lorry driver Leaving campus for town. More often than not one would stop, Fling open the door, and wait While I clambered up the steps To reach the cab, Jeans, desert boots, duffle coat, beads Screaming 'student' in contrast To the driver's more workaday wear. The fare: a conversation to pass the time It took to drive to Lancaster, A chance for learning of a different kind Before we parted