It was day before I knew it
because I slept late
but made it to work on time.
We were free to ride the elephant
which is what we called
our truck coated in grey primer.
I knew as we drove
this land was our country
for as far as we could drive in a day.
As we drove we spotted
white and black faces
along the side of the road
and all the shades of brown—
all with their thumbs out
heading north at a snail’s pace.
Our job was to hand out bottled water
to the thirsty
and PB&Js to the hungry
then report the body count
to a sixth floor office
in a dull white municipal building.
It seemed we should be reporting
to a cathedral or church
responding to some biblical edict.
But no. It was our response to music
both inside and outside our heads.
Half hearing. Half reacting.
Most days Delphi and I never saw
any other traffic.
Half a tank out and half a tank back again.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney