Thumbs Up

Angels hitchhike

on the truck side of lonely.

Lovely weeds bend in the flying dust

of wheels stopping to start again.

The driver might chatter football,

the radio Gospel, or tripe.

This part of the Damascus road

is between homes, jobs, baths.

The Son of Man

has no where the lay His head.

Transients, the easy victims

of innocence and dumpster diseases.

The next Samaritan binds

the next wounds.

Our daily bread buttered,

one side at a time.