A POEM - THE WORDS OF THE TRUCKERS

THE WORDS OF THE TRUCKERS
It was late at night,
Past eleven.
I was in a roadhouse in Ceduna,
And had been there for nearly ten hours.
The truckers came in and out,
Ordering food and mumbling their hellos and goodbyes.
One fat, bald man sat down to a big meal.
He’d been there a while,
Having had to stop for the night,
Due to his load.
Oversized load trucks weren’t allowed to drive
Once the sun went down.
I’d been watching him on and off,
For want of anything else to do.
Then a wiry little bastard hobbled in,
Went up to the food counter and ordered.
The fat man watched him intently.
When the wiry man turned to sit down,
To wait for his food to come up.
He saw the fat man, smiled and said,
“well George! I thought you’s was up north somewheres!”