A Lesson in Patience

With a stiff thumb,
I stand alone in the dripping rain
beneath a miserable bridge: wet, tired, hungry.
Hundreds of cars passing just as alone
with a seat wide open
but a door wide shut.
Three hours slowly pass,
and an expensive bus ticket is
my only escape on this cold day of gray gloom.
No smiles, no sympathy,
not even a wave or an engaged brake light;
only rooster tail drenches
and a wet backpack on which I now sit
with my dripping hood covering my tired brain,
like a hoodlum on a rainy street corner.
Soon my hand droops following
my head and my heart.
And right as I think to give up, stand up,
and take a lousy bus,
a green car approaches
with foggy windows
that slowly roll down
to reveal a lovely, tan, elegant farm girl
with a blanket,
some food,
and a ride all the way to Boston.

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This Poems Story

Five years of rambling have inspired me to deliberately document my journeys around the earth. I'm a young wandering poet, enthusiastically exploring various methods of travel and writing. My preferred form of transportation is hitchhiking. This particular piece is a true-to-the-tale poem I wrote about a rainy morning on a Vermont highway thumbing my way to meet a friend in Providence. The poem's protogonist (and her dog) gave me a warm three-hour ride to South Station in downtown Boston early one autumn.