Hoosier Truck Poem
I got as far as some town
in Ohio before turning the truck around
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.
Interested in submitting poetry to The Good Men Project? Check out our guidelines.
Photo by amboo who?/Flickr
Very interesting.
I hope this makes sense, and I mean this in a good way: This isn’t at all what I expected it to be, but I can’t say what I was expecting.
This was a nice surprise.
Thanks, Michael. I don’t know what you expected, but I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.
Far from it! I just re-read the poem and it is as fresh to me as the first time I read it.
The ending is such a cool twist.
Great job!