Hitchhikers

~ Chynthia Krontz

Traveling by cocktail, one part free, two parts fair.

Hitchhikers are limited by invaders,
forgotten by the one of us,
questing to steal the pinkest sunsets with shores much less murky.

Speaking in tongues; louder, louder,
reflecting your passport.

Then, communicating with gestures as
common as thumbs-up, a smile, an exchange for fuel, for food.

A trucks escalating whine calls
to the lean brown arm – still unkissed.

Shifting, grinding youthfully
Round a stubborn mountain –
geologic roots: shearing silently.

We share a plate, you know,
and a bed, for now.

That’s not so much a bed.

We should share more.