The Hitchhiker

As soon as I climb into the car
I fold my dark blanket
and close my eyes against it
and the locked door.
She speaks a few words,
the air from the vent ruffling
her dress an inch above her knees.
With my left hand I slide out
the knife, unfold it under my arm
and wait for her to grow silent.
You are horrified.
Do you wish to understand?
Take the page this is written on,
hold it up, the edge dry
and tight, slide it
quickly across your tongue
and taste between your lips
the road unfolding
from my dreams.