Poem #2,745 | Last time I was in a French port

Last time I was in a French port
rats scattered before me –
I had
hitched past Lyon
[with my bag
cutting into my shoulder] & got
close ‘nough to walk & not feel
that empty stretch by thumbs –
do folks hitch all alone?
& then
an end of all roads
[a giving up
cul de sac fell into that chop of
cold harbour waters] –
No hard
guidance by lines & kerbsides –
now low tides my map
[this all
before ‘phones & all that] –
Lift
your head & follow this coast –
snub fat foreign rats –
re-route
my choice
[guesswork’s voice]
& I headed west by foot & eye