24 hours straight
through and you learn
they play the same 20 oldies
on every FM station
between home and Vegas.
I've done my shift
and stretch out in the back
seat to watch the 2 AM stars
pass over until I drift off
and somewhere past Salt Lake
I wish the roof
were made of glass
so I could count them
all like sheep.
In the blackness on I-84
there are more trucks
than I think I've ever seen
and as their wheels murmur by
I think what fun it would be
to be in a convertible
instead and trade in
the view the new moon
and Venus have for a trucker's
noon view of my tits,
tops down on the way to Vegas.

June 2006