Hitchiker From Another World
1
Sunday, an overarching day both raw edge conduit and
coarse grain shelter for that soul in torment,
it’s when psyches plagued by doubt face those
sudden twists and turns we call bizarre,
thoughts of the macabre and their covert operation may
intrude into our leisure zone as skin rash nettle hazard.
we’re there latent paranormal hidden hands as I drew
closer to a roadside curb whose mortar filling had been
shrivelled due to timeline passage?
2
One can be blind to seismic portent, atmospheric tension’s
silent whisper, random omen pointer surreptitious,
little did I know what lay ahead bar dim light inkling and
its scene-shifter impact at an awkward later stage,
as the wheels of my car began to screech a pulsing
nebula of images stoked an inner world sixth sense,
skepticism’s early cloud speck haze now off-limit as
orange-red sunlight shafts reveal an ornamental placard.
.
3
It had this brazen mantra,
that cryptic but incisive query-
“Going somewhere?”
Light green paint brush clusters and intertwining leafs
garnished borders of this plaque with its scheme
in transit blithe charm,
an angel face hitchhiker stood, her ocean blue crest
eyes openly inviting gold rush dawn apogee,
a silken twang rippled like some fresh mint oxbow
spring chase or meander.
“Hello, I'm Lelia. Life is an algebra of enigmatic
hue and strange encounters going into orbit.
Clandestine journey for bohemian quest
Who knows what convoluted upshot might ensue?”
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