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.
No comments:
Post a Comment