Livin’
on buffets,
Been
out umpteen days,
Christmas
loads are hotter than heck.
Now people are shopping,
And
traffic is stopping,
This
town’s turned into one big brake check.
Wastin’
my hours again in MessedUpTrafficVille.
All
the cars ahead have come to a halt.
Some
people say that I am nuts to live this way,
But
I think – who are they to find fault.
Don’t
know the reason,
Dispatcher
keeps teasin’ me,
With
the prospect of more time at home.
But
when I’m unloaded,
My
hours are noted,
And
he says Bud you gotta roam.
Wastin’
my hours again in MessedUpTrafficVille
All
the cars ahead have come to a halt.
Some
people say that I am nuts to live this way,
But
I think – they’re jealous that’s all.
Back
on the blacktop,
Atlanta’s
at full stop,
I
grip the wheel and think about home.
If
this guy hits my fender,
I
just may surrender,
I
can’t afford to ding up more chrome.
Wastin’
my hours again in MessedUpTrafficVille
All
the cars ahead have come to a halt.
Some
people say that I am nuts to live this way,
But
I think – maybe I’ve just been called.

Looking forward to Harding a rendition of this on land line now!
ReplyDeleteDoes this poem have music?
ReplyDeleteThe man does have a way with words!
ReplyDeleteFun blog Bill.
ReplyDelete