Here is the first part in a series of poems entitled “The Galilee Hitch-Hiker” by Richard Brautigan. Brautigan, known for his dark humor and wildly imaginative metaphors, lived a highly stylized life racked with despair and alcoholism, and–though his writing often seemed silly–he understood the way of the cross, as evidenced by the twist in the following poem. I was reminded of Jesus’ message to Herod in Luke 13:

Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.

“The Galilee Hitch-Hiker”
by Richard Brautigan

galilee-oar-posterBaudelaire was
driving a Model A
across Galilee.
He picked up a
hitch-hiker named
Jesus who had
been standing among
a school of fish,
feeding them
pieces of bread.
“Where are you
going?” asked
Jesus, getting
into the front
seat.
“Anywhere, anywhere
out of this world!”
shouted Baudelaire.
“I’ll go with you
as far as
Golgotha,”
said Jesus.
“I have a
concession
at the carnival
there, and I
must not be
late.”