December 2, 2021

Frisco Bound




just because it sounds romantic doesn’t mean there’s any love in it
vases hold flowers but not emotions

they seep through cracks onto old wooden tables

shaky-unstable legs giving way to the creepings of old age

dripping lost mauve on the floor

and the emotions now evaporated with the passage of time

the time has passed like a freight train on its way to detroit

chicago st.louis or all the way to frisco

now long gone and rumbling by the golden gate

sounds of passing traffic on the not so far interstate

transporters, broke trucks, tankers, flatbeds

all humming good night as they pass with their red lights

and the driver jacked up on coffee so he can drive all night

when there aren’t so many cars in the way

snowbirds making their way down to florida

their home in st. pete or sarasota or points south

living what they think is the good life

the trucker thinks he has a good life

away from people shut up in his cab slash office

country music twanging from the radio

when he drops that load, he’s got another heading back

after a short rest and a greasy hamburger and fries

he’s got a 1 a.m. all the way to colorado where he calls home

among the pikes and the peaks

and the snow covered highways lined with tracks

of tires and tears


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