Guest Poet Linda S. Boerstler
At the Truck Stop
I see them nearly everyday
Broken men with broken hearts
Nothing much to live for
Except for the next load.
Too old to keep on living
But still too young to die.
Beaten up by the miles
Lost in the miles
Driven by the miles
The road goes on and on
And has no end.
Forced smiles and pleasantries
But they know, that I know
That a smile is only a mask
That hides the wounds
And the shattered dreams
That serve to constantly haunt
As they travel the miles
Lost in the miles
Driven by the miles
The road goes on and on
And has no end.
July, 2001
Linda S. Boerstler's Questions:
How can I make this poem more realistic?
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