Hitchhiking home with my best friend

in the late seventies, I think it was.

Armed with the assumption of immortality

that often accompanies youth,

we ignored the possibilities of danger.

In retrospect, behind our painted smiles,

there seemed to be a hint of desperation

as we stood on the shoulder of the passage.

I recall looking at the highway signs.

None of the harbingers emblazoned there

mentioned the different directions we were headed.