toll booth man

you told me about the man
in the toll booth, about how
he watches the people as they 
go past, sometimes the same
ones each day. how he had a simple
life & on the others side
of the booth the cars rush fast
like manta rays--gliding facelss
& in a rush. he unwraps his sandwich
from a plastic ghost, ducks down in
the booth so that no one will
see him, legs crossed on the floor,
whoosh of vehicles still on one side.
i think he's me or at least he will
be me in do time. i moved
to a toll booth years ago. hung
my jean jacket on the back of the chair,
scotch taped the two pictures i 
have of my father & i to the desk;
the one of us in Halloween costumes  
& the one of me watching him
on the bar stag-- his black &
white Rickenbacker hanging from 
his body. i reach my hand inside
to feel the texture of the guitar
strap-- like a stripe of Persian rug,
leather on the back. on the floor
there's a stack of books, of course.
the one card board box full that 
i've been carrying with me. on breaks
i touch them by the spine to wake them
up & they roll over, eyes bleary from
too much sleep. i whisper.
we'll read soon. only at night,
of course, by flash light i remain,
criss-cross legs with a book sprawled
out in my lap. her words go 
blurry, spoken under the tires 
of cars. even in the dead of night
sometimes i pop up, just to 
see if i recognize any of the vehicles
making their way onto the turnpike again. 
i catch a glimpse of the family,
my family, maybe a decade or so old,
headed to the big apple to bit 
the pavement & free the great blue
whale from the museum of national
history. they won't succeed, of course.
their hotel will have not enough windows
& i will decide to move to the city.
what would he think of me? alive 
only in the four walls of the toll booth.
he would join me, a little boy 
in a dress with a bob-haircut & 
a candy necklace. he sits on my
lap & i ask him where he let our
family run off to. laughing he crawled
out into the rush of traffic, just to
become a plastic bag before i could
reach out to grab him. the next day 
i see the same car again, & another
& another. 
you tell me of the toll booth 
man & i nod.