I Was a Venturous Wondering Misanthrope

In my youthful teen years, I was a Venturous Wondering Misanthrope. I traveled lite, toothbrush in one pocket, seven-inch switchblade in the other (only for safety.) I hitchhiked across Edmonton, Calgary, and Vancouver. When it came time for the sun to rest, the skies exploded with an array of colors. I was amazed to see the aurora borealis floating across the heavens above. I met some great people stayed a day or two with a few.

I sojourned along the Coast Highway, Beaches, and Cliffs. Relaxed on the white sandy seashores, slumbered amongst the trees in the Santa Cruz mountains. I met a few intriguing characters. I stayed a couple of days with two different bands as they jammed.

Tee Shirt, Levis, Tennis Shoes

fifteen on my own

hitchhiking the coast, hwy 1

Half Moon Bay to Santa Cruz

nine p.m. not a shimmer of light

on this cold, wet, fog smothered night

not a car on the road

I will walk most of the night

taking steps without seeing

as if I lost my sight

the ocean is alive with emotion

it calls out wanting to be heard

a pounding vibration

I feel in my bones

as a mighty hammer hitting stone

echoing a sound that fills the air

as the swells, waves, and surf

slap the rocks along the bottom of the cliff

you can feel the ocean breathe

as the mist from its breath covers me

taking away the existence of time

creating a feeling that humane life has past

the only thing alive is the earth, ocean, and me...