POEM - KING OF THE ROAD

KING OF THE ROAD
It was 4:18 in the morning
cold and dark
80 miles north of Knoxville
and the road was mine
mine all mine
because some people
were home in their beds
and some
were in other people’s beds
some were passed out in alleys
and some were behind bars
and some were dreaming about mango chutney
on a good curry
some were breaking into houses
raping and murdering
the ones home in their beds
or in other people’s beds
and some were flying
on airplanes high up in the sky
and the truckers
well, for once
all the truckers
had all pulled off to rest
to do whatever it is they do
in the cabs of their big rigs
and they had passed on the crown to me
and finally, oh finally
I was the king of the road
without subjects or slaves
without land over which to rule
without anything
except the night to watch over me
and loneliness as comfort
I was the king of the road