Pick up Trucks to places eternal – a poem

In some station far from Home.
I am gathering what I can from all that local flavor.
The occasional pick up truck exhausts, grinds and growls
in contrast to the miles and miles.

A dark morning and a dark day, hours and hours of rain
falling less on the ground and more on my brain.
A dark knowing is all that i can say
about my hearts contents,
for the stage is set and all the actors are cued
God’s glory turned to misery.

I look out at the dark twilight only to observe another truck go by

Cheap music springs out of the speakers as improbably as Athena from Zeus’ forehead
Blame me if I’m caught singing along.
Lambaste, flame, and curse me for the sentimentality that believes in cheap worthless things.
Crush my bones.
Leave my soul in a puddle beside the road.

Let the wheels of yet another truck roll.

Across the lights for pumps I see as far as the here and now.
I try to stretch my mind out past this still town.
I try to imagine the Bride in her gown.

But with filthy puddles for eyes
dirty exhaust for breath
cheap music for soul
and darkness for vision
I’m gonna be here for a long time.

I’m gonna be here for a long time.
and now a car rolls by.