Sunday, June 17, 2007

Box Truck

I turned around and was confused,
more or less, by the disappearance
of a valuable truck, abused
but identified through adherence
to my employer's rules--it rolled
how fast, how slow? While the gas nozzle
that vibrated in my hand tolled
the deep brass baritone rumble,
that now feels misplaced. The trailer
sits innocently sunbathing,
and a giant of a man, bailer
of another life, his arm raising
an alarm for me, with black face,
apologizes. His lips a space apart.

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