WEBVTT

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I wrote this poem about--

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I can't remember
the guy's name--

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the Pied Piper of Tucson,
sort of based on him.

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Remember those murders?

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And it was titled "Oh,
Cure, Who Do You Love?"

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but I changed that
to "The Hitchhiker"

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the other day, which
I think may be better.

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I wrote it after I saw a
performance with Mick Jagger

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and you know this violence
I wanted to capture.

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The tension that I feel in heat.

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In Arizona, in the heat.

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In the southwest.

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The Arizona wind
dries out my nostrils

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and the heat of the
sidewalk burns my shoes.

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A woman drives up slowly.

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I get in, grinning at
a face I do not like.

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But I slide my arm across
the top of the seat

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and rested lightly
against her shoulder

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until we turn off
into the desert.

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I reach into inside my pocket
and touch the switchblade.

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And we stop.

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And as she moves closer
to me, my hands ache.

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But somehow, I get the
blade into her chest.

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I think the song,
"everybody needs somebody,

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everybody needs
somebody to love."

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As the black
numerals, 35 roll out

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of her right eye
inside, one small tear.

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Laughing, I snapped my fingers.

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Rape, murder.

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I got you in the
sight of my gun.

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I move off toward the street
my feet press down in it,

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familiar with the hot, soft
asphalt that caresses them.

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The sun slips down into its
cradle behind the mountains.

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And it is hot.

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Hotter than ever.

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And I like it.

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Can you hear?

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OK.