I’m Not From Around Here | A Poem

RUCKERPEDIA

Driving fast down sun-baked country roads

Countless tiny towns are silhouettes in my dust

I dare not stop for fear of the unknown

I have this little suspicion they don’t like my kind

The kind different from them

The kind not of their own

It’s not that I blame them, really

It’s not their fault that they’re wrong

My destination is clear

No place in particular

Just enjoy the scenic route

Before night claims the scenery

There’s a fork in my roads of chance

My front tire takes the brunt of it

I pull over to the soft shoulder

My good luck having failed me

Rear view mirror, another driver is nearing

A big red pickup, a good ol’ boy pulls next to me

Sweat beading on my brow now, I’m unsure of his intention

I ease out of the car, though I’m thankful for his…

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