The once diagnosed as depressed
truck driver
now possesses a disposition of happiness.
The once office liar,
pusher of pencils to expand colleagues’ egos,
now boards a red, highlighted diesel,
equipped with expansive front
window, a window with expansive
view of green, luscious fields, myriad of birds
beckoning and crossing; large mountains
resembling hands, raised like knuckles
far beyond hyperfocal distance—versus
the minute window of a pseudo office,
illuminating views of vomiting pop culture.
First trip carried him within a hand
of memorable landscape, and the former
office liar exhumed a yellow pencil,
broke its body into feeble fractions,
and tossed its existence into the asphalt’s
swallowing command.
Copyright 2006 by the Tipton Poetry Journal.
All rights remain the exclusive property of the individual poet and may not be used without their permission.