A Poem: I hate this truck

I hate this truck

I hate this truck because it’s so redneck

Like a can of chewing tobacco on wheels

Like a turkey fryer on a flatbed

Like a pet ferret with manual transmission

And it’s parked in my driveway

Purchased by my husband two weeks before the birth of our first child

Under the pretext of needing it to “improve efficiency”

For hauling heavy machinery from fencing job to fencing job

My ass

My reputation

My husband

Who might be a redneck

That’s what it’s come to

Granted, he bought it used

Pre-accessorized with all kinds of whimsical redneck flourishes

Like chrome “cow mobiling” mud flaps

And chrome-plated door handles

That look like they came out of a Cracker Jack box

No further proof is needed

Of my rural hell

Except for maybe this

It’s a muffler

That’s really

REALLY

Loud

Somewhere nearby a cardinal slowly dies

Strangled by the sound of the muffler’s torturous roar

As this truck still idles in my driveway

Waiting for its new owner to tame its lusty needs

(and strip away some of its redneck cheese)

(I hope)

While his wife must make due with Walmart’s

House brand Raisin Bran

And other bits of off-brand grocery

The End.

Tagged as: truck