The Wait

Cold night brings truckers in to sleep
Noses of trucks point forward
Like privates Dress Right Dress...
On the first day of marine boot camp

Heads shaved but uniforms not issued

One is oddly pointed in the wrong direction
As if prepared to lay a diesel fart
To break with conformity and convention


The drone of scores of diesel engines is excessive
In a world that has invented the train
But we have to move those microwave ovens and color TV's


Cab beds replace
Home sweet home
For men who spend their nights alone
Between one place and the next
Fighting or submitting to
The process of becoming Borgs


Sleep when it comes
Reminds them they belong to more
Than motor and machine
Especially if they still dream