The D.C. Hitch-Hiker

The D.C. Hitch-Hiker
Part 1

Brautigan was
driving a Subaru
throughout D.C.
He stopped for a
hitch-hiker named
Barack who’d
been standing before
control panels,
pushing each
button once more.
“Where are you
going?” asked
Barack, now
in the car’s front
seat.
“Anywhere, anywhere
but into this war!”
shouted
Brautigan.
“Well take me with you
anyway, as far as
Islamabad,”
said Barack.
“I have
squadrons
in every town
there, and I
must not be
weak!”

The Mexican Hotel
Part 2

Brautigan was sitting
in a doorway with a Latino
on Tucson’s Fourth Avenue.
The Latino was a handful
of years old and couldn’t remember
anything.
Brautigan and the Latino
were drinking ice cold water.
“One must always be hydrated,”
said Brautigan.
“I live in the Mexican Hotel,”
said the Latino. “And I can’t
remember anything.”
“Be you hydrated always,”
said Brautigan.

1999
Part 3

Brautigan never came
to our house to watch
my mother drink coffee.
It was in 1999
and we lived in San Manuel
in Arizona.
My mother would put
her coffee into mugs for later.
I was a toddler
and would hide in my room,
pretending that it was
a secret lair,
and I’d imagine Brautigan
hiding there with me,
making shushing sounds
and holding out
a blanket.

The Berta Burgers
Part 4

Brautigan bummed at
my brother’s apartment
in South Tucson,
and he listened to
my brother’s burger chatter.
People would come over
and say, “Stop it with
the burger chatter, Berta,
it’s making me cry.”
Brautigan would shush
him and hug the visitors
instead and the visitors
would say, “What kind
of American citizen
are you?”

A Second of Cessation
Part 5

“My neighbors
ignore time
in the screens
of televisions,”
said Brautigan
and entered
an electronics store
in Phoenix.
He returned
more than an hour
later hauling
a forty-seven
inch flat screen
TV that he
beat with a
baseball bat
in the street.

Olof Johansson
Part 6

“Will you
or won’t you
leave a note
after this,
you bloody old
cloud merchant?”
Ianthe Elizabeth
shouted,
hitting Brautigan
on the head
as he sat
daydreaming
out the window.
Brautigan was
regretful.
Then he laughed
like hell,
waving his gun
in the air
like a sparkler
lighting the room
up like a photo manipulation
by Olof
Johansson, lighting
the room
like a painting
by Sheeky.

A Political Rally
Part 7

Brautigan went
to a political rally
and bought a small pin
and lit up a fresh
rolled cigarette.
The Arizona Senator
was playing
the entire crowd.
In the fourth minute
a minority committed
suicide by jumping
into the audience.
The minority landed
on the podium,
causing the
whole stage
to crack like
a flimsy façade.
The rally was
called on
account of
honesty.

Sane Hospital
Part 8

Brautigan went
to the sane hospital
dressed as only
himself.
He was committed there
for several months
and when he left,
the sane hospital
hated him so much
that it tracked
him all over
the country,
and Brautigan
sneered when the
sane hospital
hid itself
up upon his
highest shelf like a
strange cat.

My Parakeet Funeral
Part 9

When I was nine
I had a headstone
where I buried my parakeet;
a dead bird under
a mesquite tree.
I would play the recorder
in my nice shoes and the wind.
I would bury the bird
in shiny silver boxes.
It was all very sad
and I would cry
as I scooped the dirt
into her small grave
with my shoe.
Brautigan finally came
and joined in
my parakeet’s funeral,
whispering little prayers
the size of
.44 Magnums.