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March 1, 2010
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      Trucker’s Corner

      By Staff
      April 1st, 2009

      Truck Stop

      by: Tracy Capello

      Scraping the day off his face

      the afternoon he knew

      that some poor driver would

      never again have to think about

      the fastest way to get somewhere,

      miss another shower or a meal

      because of schedules, the lines

      and the signs just blistering by,

      listen to clacking wipers on a

      greasy road, smell warm asphalt lots

      paved with urine, fall off to sleep with a

      clanking lullaby or some whore knocking,

      he stopped to total the hours when

      death could have come just as easily to him,

      had it been his vein that burst on exit 29,

      his truck flying over the rails and down a hill,

      his wife waiting for his nightly call.

      My Wife

      by: Tony “Bulldog” Ramsey (This is a Poem I wrote for my wife while I was away from home and was missing her very much.

      When I see the early morning sun caressing the dew-touched meadows,

      I see my wife.

      The mother of our child

      Her love and understanding make our house a home.

      She is my wife.

      When the day’s been rough and the week’s been long,

      I know I can go home to the loving arms of my wife.

      Her beauty is only one of her many qualities.

      That’s why I’m proud to call her my wife.

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      2 Responses to “Trucker’s Corner”

      1. 1
        Todd Pauley:

        18 Wheels of Sadness

        Many dreams have passed me by
        Many times I sat and cried

        Many nights I felt alone
        To live like I live on the road

        People wonder were I go
        They fantasize about being free

        They don’t realize the stuff I see
        It’s not what it’s cracked up to be

        If they only new we were filled with sadness
        To have people on every corner begging for money

        To park at a truck stop to get some rest
        To deal with hookers and pimps and all the rest

        Drivers talk trash and hookers talk cash
        Racism runs wild over the CB

        They call each other niggers, crackers and whores
        So many souls have lost their way

        Truly a sad thing to haft to say
        But day after day the years roll by

        It makes me want to sit and cry
        But every day I turn the key

        When will the madness end for me
        I sit and I wonder when this will be

        Until that day comes you will see
        Another lonely trucker headed towards the sea

      2. 2
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