DOT

DOT

in the Blue Ridge mountains morning
brief interruption of the unusual month-long train
of thunderstorms flooding hollows and highways
white gray black clouds pile on top of each other
as though the narrow slough of sky is too small for their fury

IHOP truck stop outside Lexington Virginia
20 acres of parking
11:00 AM
50 maybe more tractor-trailer trucks with sleeper cabs
eighteen wheelers
a few double trailers
some with double wide wheels and tires
arrivals and departures in continual motion
a railroad switching yard
with silent rules
park side-by-side 3 feet apart in neat rows
Detroit Diesel engines 100% guaranteed first million miles
Mitsubishi made in France
Cummins a Hollywood star
12 cylinders run idle
no exhaust smoke just low rumbling background noise
green red orange white blue yellow
clean or new cab paint jobs
corporate logos in durable black and brands bold
independent truckers rigs ablaze with lights outlining freight boxes
pride of ownership
kids in dining rooms pause eating stacks of pancakes
aromas of spilled fruit esters on Formica tabletops
point and laugh with delight
decorated Christmas trees 

heavy weary men solo drivers
wait for their call to showers
no corporate uniforms except the FedEx guy
in oil stained old clothes and canvas shoes
in the men’s bathroom brush teeth
foaming paste runs down hands
splash cold water on their unshaven faces
watch noon news in the truckers lounge
how many are military veterans professional at maximizing bivouac
won’t waste reprieve from battle with trivial chitchat
confirm weather
accuracy of Google and Apple GPO maps
what Kentucky routes require caution
walk through the dining rooms
smile at the FedEx driver who argues a discount
for his chicken omelet with the waitress
ignore tourists and children
theirs are back in Oklahoma or Arkansas or Stockton
far from the long haul out of LA and Long Beach ports
hope they don’t get pulled over
by Federal Highway inspectors to check logs
order them to stop driving
right then and there
sleep for two hours on shoulders of interchange ramps
before returning to interstate highway truck lanes
to drum multi-ply rubber tires
on 11.5 inches of unforgiving poured concrete
reinforced with steel rebar

Ron Tobey grew up in north New Hampshire, USA, and attended the University of New Hampshire, Durham. He and his wife live and farm in West Virginia. He is an imagist poet, expressing experiences and moods in concrete descriptions in haiku, lyrical poetry storytelling, recorded poetry, and in filmic interpretation.