Hoosier Truck Poem
I got as far as some town
in a ditch. That’s when I noticed it:
the sun rising as if to follow me
home in my rearview mirror. I took backroads.
The truck I’d borrowed from a wise friend
who called me Fear. I had no idea why.
Wait. Not one word of this little story is true,
except the truck friend everybody knew as Six.
He painted pictures for the blind.
Read more of Brian Beatty’s poetry.
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Photo by amboo who?/Flickr