No Longer Home

The old truck started up without a jump.
I hadn't thought it would. I got inside
And quickly found that I was clearly
Out of place in my old clothes, long beard,
And relic with its missing trim and rust,
And holey muffler, blatting down the sort
Of street which bisects endless lines of chain
Stores, restaurants and beauty shops. All
The vehicles around were decades newer,
European, mostly, driven by the swells
From the surrounding sprawl. They didn't
Want to look at me. Perhaps they thought
That I was someone going to repair a roof
Or snake a drain, some lowlife tradesman
From the city, not someone who lived nearby,
Who had, in fact, come out here first, but, now,
If offered property in isolation, farther out,
Would not think twice. I promise you I'd jump.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 20 times
Written on 2021-02-05 at 22:21

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