i was driving to the klan meeting

when i picked up a man, his hood and robe in a paper bag.

we were heading to the same place.

but we hadn’t gone far

when he pulled a knife on me

and made me get out.

i never have been out-bullied before

but i thought about that boy in chicago,

that bobby franks,

and i looked at the drifter in my automobile,

and i knew

he would gladly do to me

what leopold and loeb had done to that boy

in chicago.

and i got out.