Wednesday, August 6, 2014


Six Days On The Road

Dave Dudley dogged it but you never
let your log book get behind

and if it was blame it on a lousy
West Virginia three-way split

over mountain roads glazed with fear
gears grabbing the grades

by the collar to choke and throttle
steel teeth meshing, nerves frayed. 

The load, Detroit V-Eight muscle, wheels
for everyone, two to a garage

seven on the trailer, swaying
on the curves,  cinched down

by chains torqued tight, wind
keening through the links,

black smoke settling into hollar’s
like dark oaths sworn soft

in murmured prayer, gods
petitioned for the slow

exquisitely painful
death of Bob Patterson

wretched dispatcher
neck tied bane of your existence. 

Six days on the road, years
swallowed whole in the side views.   

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