Hitching to an Interview, Dallas, 1974

The female half of a bouffant and crew cut,
country-club-couple
rolls down the flag-decaled, passenger window.
Five minutes past her “Get in,”
she moves to the driver’s seat,
he hops in the back, next to me,
covers my mouth,
thumbs a ride
up my mini-skirt.
He does not hear me say,

“I’m your roadside Jew-girl, fresh
from Coney Island’s fun house.
Marvel at my horns, if you dare,
but when you come up behind me,
watch out, I’ll swat
your beastly face