Life on the front lines

a poem about a truck stop

Life on the front lines


tired of sitting in my metal box
thinking about how this job is
slowly killing me
I decided to get out and
walk in to the truck stop
to get a cup of coffee

I open the door and step in to the
blinding florescent hell
where the girl behind the counter
fiendishly squeaks out
welcome to our happy truck stop

it was like getting punched in the face
and kicked in the balls

I smiled and said
hey

thinking to myself
I better get my coffee
and get back to the truck
so I can write this shit down
before someone else tries to kill me