Drifting down the docks at night
In someone else’s clothes.
The passers by look right through me
As they wander to and fro.

Walking through dark dim light
Trusting my feet to fate,
Pulling me unwillingly from the reservoir
Back to the interstate.

Road weary, body aching,
Looking for the way back home.
Head is dizzy, hands are numb
The world fades into monochrome.

Battered black and white photos,
Yellow tapes corners, crooked on the page
Men with old fashioned hats and fear in their eyes
Barely concealing the white man’s racist rage.

Burning houses and burning crosses
Smoke fills the ebony skies,
Bloodied brown faces look up
To see a hood covering all but the coward’s eyes.

Walking relentlessly down
That dusty old Dixie Highway
Moving further and further away from
Woody Guthrie’s sacred golden sky-way.

Hitchhiking highway in dim light,
Unsure if its dusk or dawn,
Quietly humming a happy tune
From an old Big Bill Broonzy song.

7/17-7/26/18