Hitch Hiking Poem by Gert Strydom

On the hillock
he heard the coughing baboon bark,
saw them moving away in grey patches
where they were in the distance
with aloes making orange dots
and the sun was hot and bright.

With a finger out he was hiking,
dressed in brown military uniform,
carrying a kitbag filled with clothes
with cars passing at speed,

swerving around the corners,
changing gears with engines revving,
trucks throwing wind against him
while their airbrakes made a dir kind of noise.