clack. Clack. CLACK! WHOOOOSH!
Dirt and gravel, oliy fumes,
Heat rising from asphalt.
Time passing much too slow,
Dark comes and swallows the world.
blink. blink. blink. blink.
Green arrow silhouettes flicker,
on, off, on, off.
Eyelids grown weary.
Choices of extremes, no escape,
Enclosed in steel and glass and plastic.
Swelter in silence, sweat drips down.
Or cool in earsplitting rumbles and whoosh.
tick. tick. tick. tick.
Time wandering inexorably on,
Plowing through without moving.
Otiose, cast-off, thrown away.
Hours piled upon wasted hour,
Broken and flat and overheated,
Alone and without recompense.
Cast adrift until aide arrives . . . too late.
Published by Charles B Reynolds
Published author, political junkie, and lover of the written word. Writing workshop and seminar instructor. Journalist at Examiner.com and Imperfect Parent.com. Blogger of the internationally read “Thinkin... View profile
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3 Comments
Post a CommentBless all the truckers that work so hard! You know, what the REAL log book shows!!! ; ) -J
Good poem, charles. It really gives the idea of what trucking is all about.
Great poem, it really took me on the journey with you!