her perky breasts were a silhouette
against cow pastures and broken
fences and her clothes hung on a
rusty nail behind the truck stop but
this place was a dump and all they
had was a garden hose and a greasy
bar of Lava for her daily shower
her name was Midge but all the
other truckers called her A-Cups
she dreamed of orange barrels
and oil changes and growing a beard
and she drove a 17 wheeler because
she wasn't ready for an 18 wheeler
but she knew someday she'd move
into the vast world of product delivery
she smiled crawling into the back
of her sleeper with a Snickers and
a Playgirl knowing it was a long haul
Like pops used to say this is a mighty fine feast we have here. pass the chew bucket, but don't bring baca dammit!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Vivid memory, should I say?