Tuesday’s plow truck

Before I turn on the lights

I open my eyes

To bird chirps working hard in their flight

beeping trucks

Backing up

Familiar songs turning morning from night

And suddenly I’m riding along

With my dead father plowing a way

Pushing away beauty into piles don’t belong

Mountains of empty mall lots in the frey

I’d ask a question about life or classmates at school

But you’d pass me a flask full of gin

Slamming into snow paths cigarette ashes all cool

Coffee spills again and again

“If you want to chit chat go get your nails done with mom

We are men and we work and we ride”

And you’d sing along to Willie as I’d sit and be calm

Can’t roll up the window, find a seatbelt or hide

You wanted me tough till the day that you died

My alarm clock pulls be back to this present time

Alone I’m a whore in a hotel some place

Guess I’ll shave and pretend I’m ok

On with the lights and day

As I plow away

this morn’s sullen old graying face

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