A Hobo Day
By Oklahoma Red
Drifting around from town to town
after traveling east for a few days
I crossed the road to restart the adventure
perhaps I had gone the wrong way
it did not seem to matter which way I was going
the fact that I was moving was all that mattered
The sun comes up and invites you to a new day
what is the name of this place do I even want to stay
a stranger approaches and bids good day
doesn’t mean it – just words to say
Have a nice day, you hear it all the time
the sincerity of it doesn’t seem to be there
just hollow words, not from the heart
like a broken record, “have a nice day”
It’s none of your business what kind of a day I have
it is my day and I will have whatever kind of day I want
your worn out cliche has all but ruined my day
when the sun goes down then I’ll know
what kind of day I had.
http://www.worldpath.net/~minstrel/
My good friend Hobo Jack loved that poem. He loved all poetry.
Hobo Jack caught the westbound train late last year. I met him when I went out to Bakersfield a few years ago, for a meeting with a TV recapping company to see if we could partner up in some way. Nothing came of it in the end because that company was bought by a bigger recapping company a few weeks later, and their priorities shifted. But I was out there for two weeks and had a lot of spare time to roam around town. Not surprisingly, it was by the train tracks that I came across Hobo Jack. He was kind enough to let me tag along on a few of his adventures, and I decided to write a script based on my experiences: