The Black Dog

In the blackness of night I see no end,
only my CB and my CD player are my friend.
My wife waits at home for my thankful return,
so in the haste of love it’s the tires I will burn.
My eyes grow weary from my constant drive,
but this is the only work that will keep my family alive.
I have seen my peers littered along the highway metal shatter to its core,
and I go on like so many have done before.
I work day and night each road going over another pass,
as my wife prays at home when she goes to mass.
I have heard the talk of the black dog that roams to street,
and if you see it, the next is God you will meet.
Popping pills or just some caffeine to get me to the next stop,
oh just a few more hours on the road and then I will drop.
No liquid or pill will ever do me right,
for by 4 am I am still in the fight.
My eyes heavy and my body wants bed,
just around this corner I can last if I am not dead.
I missed my son life growing up as he did,
for I missed a lot even though he is my kid.
Is it worth the hassles these long treks in the night?
for do I continue to drive carry on with the fight.
I remember when I thought this road want going to be that long,
now ten years down it I don’t thing I am that strong.
I open my eyes trying to at least make this last hour
then there he is running past a water tower.
Robust and black as spades he runs across my sight,
I see his red eyes flash from my headlights.
His teeth growl as I hear the brake screech to a halt,
and feel pain like I was being impaled by salt.
The body does little to nothing to protect me from this hell,
and I lash about blood being the only thing that will tell.
The ambulance drives by what once use to be me,
and the black dog I know has set another trucker free.

Written By
Robert Lee Niswander
Copyright 2005