a memoir poem
Driving along
a deserted road
in a deluge
in the dark
my hands gripping
the steering wheel
for dear life
I see him
in the headlights
there, ahead
on the right
standing, bent,
in the sheeting rain
thumb held out
—how can I
not stop?
Rain beats
the car roof
like a drum
as he flings open
the door and
slides into the
passenger seat.
“Thanks,” he says.
He’s wearing
layers of clothes
a sodden cap
over straw-like hair
sporting
a scraggly beard.
“Sure,” I say.
“Where are you going?”
He looks at me
for a peculiar moment:
“The better question is
where are YOU going?”
His eyes
(maybe it’s just my
overactive imagination)
are silvery
in the darkness.
“H-h-home,” I stammer.
“Then I’ll ride as far
as you’re able to
take me,”
says the stranger.
“How old are you,
anyway?”
What does it matter?
“Eighteen,” I say.
“You mean
that you have lived
to be eighteen
and no one
has told you
not to pick up
strangers?”
I blink.
“It’s raining…it’s
such a bad night…”
I start
but as I speak
I can hear
Grandma’s voice
reading a favorite
book to me
when I was small
(Never Talk to Strangers!)
and what
she always says
at our parting:
Take care of your
precious self…
he finishes:
“It could be
an even worse night.
You don’t know
what some people
might do.
There are a lot
mean people
in the world.
It isn’t safe
for you to
stop alone
like this.
If you let me off at
the next intersection,
it will be enough.”
I blink.
I drive on
to the next
intersection,
a well-lit place
where he opens
the door:
“Thanks for
the ride.
But don’t
pick up
any more
strangers,”
he admonishes.
The lights change
a horn blares
I’m only dimly aware
for watching
open-mouthed
as the vagabond
absconds
into the
rain-cloaked
night.
I blink.
Now I see him
now I don’t
as I take
the last turn
for home.
Lonely Highway. Colby Stopa. CC BY 2.0.
*******
with thanks to Katrina Morrison for the invitation to write a “Seeing the stranger” poem on Day Four of the Ethical ELA OpenWrite
and to Two Writing Teachers for the monthlong Slice of Life Story Challenge
and to the vagabond hitchhiker
whose advice I have heeded
ever since
lit bits and pieces 
Woah. This is powerful. I was right there in the car with you and also felt his presence!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for your words, Radutti.
LikeLike
You had me gripped from start to finish! Great vocabulary and inner thoughts. 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! It was fun finally committing it to paper/the screen.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The irony of it truly takes hold of me–as I am sure it did of you. Brilliant writing, as always.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Right -? That a hitchhiker would lecture to not pick up hitchhikers? I only drove him a couple of miles and there was more said but I can’t recall it. This much stayed with me, though. I have been grateful to him ever since (and my Grandmother would have flipped completely if she’d ever known).
LikeLike
And – thank you 🙂
LikeLike
OMG! That was a terrifying moment! You made me so scared for you! Yourbuilt suspense using “I blink” – which was perfect. I held my breath until he left, and you headed for home. I also loved you remembering want your grandma told you – Take care of your
precious self…. – It is something I always repeat to myself when I’m getting overwhelmed and upset. I’m sure you will repeat those lines to Scout and Micah – special girls for a special Franna.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Grandmas are pretty much always right and one thing is for sure – they have your best interests at heart! Thank you, Joanne.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Fran! I have not been slicing this year and haven’t had the opportunity to visit yet but yours was the first place I stopped. I have missed you and your writing. As I read this, I kept thinking, “NOOO!!! You do not pick up strangers!” I’m so glad you were okay. What a story.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, Kathleen – how I’ve missed YOU! I almost didn’t re-up for the SoLSC – it has been a TOUGH year. At the very last, I plunged in. As always, I am glad I did. Thank you for reading and I promise that I took that hitchhiker’s advice, after getting over my shock of his lecture! I hope you and all yours are well ❤
LikeLike
Fran, this slice is another one of your vivid memories narrated so well by you. The story poem/memoir is luring me to continue reading to make sure you were safe back then. Thank the Lord that the stranger was kind-hearted!
I just posted my pile-up poem so thanks for sharing yours and letting me whom the format came from.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Carol – yes, thank the Lord for wise counsel from a hitchhiker! Who’d have thought?? I just read your poem and it is beautiful, as I knew it would be.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Many thanks for the chit-chat tonight, Fran.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a moment. It’s kind of amazing that you never wrote this memory before. It seems so vivid and instructive and ironic and emotional. Maybe too emotional to record. Anyway, we’re all fortunate that it showed up on the screen at this moment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I actually thought I HAD written it. Searched my laptop and my blog…nope. It’s one of those things that resurfaces from time to time and you think, Man, no one would believe that happened – I need to write it down. It really happened. I am celebrating writing it at last.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh scary especially in the pouring rain… but how could you not…?! Definitely weird advice from a hitchhiker, was that his whole purpose? I’m glad you could finally write about it!
I have picked up hitchhikers but never on my own.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Breathless, I was on the edge of my seat thinking NO. I gasped when you shared your age to the stranger. Grandma’s words, blink, the sheets of rain- you crafted a memory that came to life. Fantastic storytelling!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you…I know there was more conversation in that short ride, but this is all I can recall of the hitchhiker’s lecture – imagine!!
LikeLike
Fran, somehow the pouring rain was the game changer. I think even if he had not had his thumb out I would have offered in weather like that. I’d have picked him up too – and I would’ve heard my grandmother’s voice of warning too. This was suspenseful and heartwarming all at once. I’m glad you are okay. And I hope he found his way. This was a nail biter today! I liked this on the second reading even more than the first and there is an image of a silhouette of a man if you scroll down looking at the shape.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Fran, oh my, your writing is so suspenseful. You hooked me and kept reeling me in. I was scared for you; it was like watching a movie! I love how you wrote about hearing your grandmother’s voice in this slice “Never talk to strangers” and “Take care of your/precious self…” The third time I read your poem, I finally realized more of the techniques you applied to your poem: alliteration, consonance, and ending your stanzas like a turn of a page in a book. The last one I mentioned was so effective keeping us all wanting to read more and more. You are an excellent writer in every style you write. Thank you for sharing your thrilling poem and your inspiration.
LikeLiked by 1 person
i have a lot of ideas for writing that just haven’t found their way into being yet – and this was one of them. The particular invitation to write about “seeing the stranger” triggered the memory. Thank you for noticing details and taking time to give such a gracious and uplifting response, Gail.
LikeLike
Oh dear, I forgot to say how happy and thankful I am that you were safe.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I so appreciate that, Gail – lol!
LikeLike
You’re welcome. Your need to turn some of your ideas into books; you would be a best seller. I sincerely mean that. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
That is kind of a dream of mine, Gail… thank you. ❤
LikeLike