Uncouth Youth

It’s chilly midnight, not the best
time to be standing alone on the
westbound side of a highway where
vehicles are seldom passing while
I hitchhike homeward, so I take

a piddle out here in the middle
of nowhere, then wait another
hour before catching a ride
through this widest stretch

in the State Of Texas —
­thumbing my way across the
southland from Key West over
to Los Angeles — traveling
with empty pockets in 1950
after a summer in Manhattan
and New Jersey, then down

to Florida, thus finishing
this last year of my teens
with a final fling, expecting
notification from Uncle Sam’s
Draft Board, saying it’s about
time for me to see more of the
world — possibly a group tour
overseas to the Korean Peninsula.