All was so promising so walk around the streets not made for walking. Step in front of the cars and ask for a ride. Someone gives you one. A big guy who used to drive a truck but now he’s on disability, threw out his back. The fixed income has him stationary mostly, except when he gets behind the wheel of his powder blue Olds. Makes him feel young and picking me up reminds him of the sixties when hitching was proper. I can hold this hope with you, my friend. Fuck it. Roll down the windows and roll up a joint and let the edge off. I can feel you steppin on it, you take good care of it. We are together in this as the numbers roll over to zero. The sun hasn’t changed in all these years, and tires are still made of rubber and pressured air. I lay my fingers on the back of your neck, and you smile and push down with one arm hooked out the window, the other latched to the top of the wheel. It’s gonna be a brighter day than most.