Feedback
from the Trucker’s Almanac

  by Terry Blanchard


Slammed Dodge Dart
seriously taken - no joke
flaming lake pipe, muff buster
weekend garage job, tricked 
by faux Tiki-carved shift knob
dancing between Janie’s
velvet thighs with a sneak
and a snort on the highway ramp.

Obvious need to notice, gunning more
jelly than a jar of Smuckers
to shucking jive at Verona's
truck stop, forced smile from fat 
semi-driver slurping Aunt Jamima
through his meth-blistered lips
bitch-slapped dream by a coin flip 
bacon-dripper saunters to his Peterbilt.

Climbs up, power squirm
for a napkin wipe, Janie blinks
or winks to follow the yellow line
assumed suitcase, nomadic chaos
mirror hung, fluorescing Jesus
momma's chinked sin-buster
by the guilt-trip gully washer
Schnapps chasing each swallow.

This destination -- cash only
moments fumbling credit
from a trucker's ripe wallet
kept in the third tuck
from his loosened belt
belly hammock for a bad diet
boot tied to his hi-beams
lighting the transit to a loading dock.

Three hundred times a year
it doesn't matter when the sweat 
of your fat feeds the snout of
Cumming’s diesel, drink short
but steady, wheel by hammered
mile, nose veins glowing
through the juice drain
floorboard possum is a boot snatch.

Vegas bred offspring blinded
by overnight headache 
when bad cheese choked the project 
the chute of malfunction 
pardoned by warm JB backwash  
the back seat lacks comfort 
the late delivery shipping penalty
means cancelled monthly payment.

Truck rolls on despite 
flashing roadside distraction
front end loader scoops the crap
spilled from the last jack-knifed
Jimmy - blink disaster, now a mop-up 
watched by the angelic reminder
of no-fault trucking after midnight
a lifestyle on a tightrope.

Rolls on, sandwich on seat
coffee by crotch, whites translucent
in the quake of another sip
cruise control, right lane of yesterday's
white knuckles where blurred vision
becomes asset in the rear view 
focus on the time line --
the memory gap of motion.