Bucket Seats

It’s 9PM under the florescent lights of the Walmart parkinglot.

I’m surrounded by shiny new RVs and beat-to-shit oldcampers.

The most unfortunate are hunkered down in the picnic area.

I wonder who is just passing through on their way to avacation,

And who is looking for a place to settle down and call home.

The topper full of possessions on my truck is not meant fora fun trip,

But such a small load of junk is not enough to feather anest.

I am not seeking a stable place to bury the roots of myfamily tree,

Just a hook to hang my hat and a soft space to lay my head.

As much as I may hate sleeping in my old pickup truck,

At least my rig has a bench instead of bucket seats.


Comments:
 
StarPoet   StarPoet wrote
on 8/29/2015 12:11:49 AM
Cool poem. Made me stop and think about those bucket seats too. I remember the old trucks that had the bench seats and you could sit 3 people up front. Now its just 2.

John_Drydin
Poetry
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writing John_Drydin
"History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it" ~Winston Churchhill~
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