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a poem by Thomas Michael McDade
Hauling Air
Among those claiming heart
conditions, a couple might stoop
to check the freight,
insulated windows and doors,
against the packing slip.
Younger guys who saw
themselves as road cowboys
worked harder than we did
and some showed off
lugging windows
nine by five alone
at the same time talking
about gals at truck stops
who did marvelous things
to teamster dicks.
And then there were drivers
who yawned hello and in a flash
retreated to the cab for shuteye.
We'd bang and shout their
fuckin' boxes empty.
A delivery was never stranded
overnight no matter what
time it rolled in and when
the work was done our yells and whistles
made a trailer echo like a canyon
one fellow said another's wife owned.
Most of the truckers were off
in a hurry looking for any damned thing
to take back to the Heartland.
The young guys often stuck around
for beers and cracked us up
imitating the getaway line
of the sickly and tired:
"Can't make money hauling air!"
The truck stop whores didn't care
if the cowboys hauled farts.
They were strong-hearted,
survived on little sleep too.
conditions, a couple might stoop
to check the freight,
insulated windows and doors,
against the packing slip.
Younger guys who saw
themselves as road cowboys
worked harder than we did
and some showed off
lugging windows
nine by five alone
at the same time talking
about gals at truck stops
who did marvelous things
to teamster dicks.
And then there were drivers
who yawned hello and in a flash
retreated to the cab for shuteye.
We'd bang and shout their
fuckin' boxes empty.
A delivery was never stranded
overnight no matter what
time it rolled in and when
the work was done our yells and whistles
made a trailer echo like a canyon
one fellow said another's wife owned.
Most of the truckers were off
in a hurry looking for any damned thing
to take back to the Heartland.
The young guys often stuck around
for beers and cracked us up
imitating the getaway line
of the sickly and tired:
"Can't make money hauling air!"
The truck stop whores didn't care
if the cowboys hauled farts.
They were strong-hearted,
survived on little sleep too.
© by Thomas Michael McDade
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #9 ~ May 2010