This is one of my favorite writings, totally inspired by that “thing” in your gut you get when you want to be with your lover so bad…you know that feeling, right?

Ode to a love-sick trucker

It’s only a matter of minutes till this phone strays
I’m on my way to 90
Takes you right to Boston, or New York…a million miles away
Got my Massachusetts off
Closed them scales down soft
I’m callin you empty
All except the chowder
Let’s hammer down and act like nothin’ matters
Bruce is singing in New Jersey
I hope the maps don’t lie – I think I’ll take 287
Maybe hop on 95
I heard that song again, the one we danced to in the dark
I’ve got to make good time tonight, I got a real late start
Good, there’s Hartford, jumps right out at 91
What happened to 95?  Where did it go?
I think I saw your face there…shit, I don’t know
Hammer down to Vermont
That’s where I get my load off
You know that’s where they sang White Christmas
…ask me if I miss ya
These maps don’t make much sense
Can’t they put’em on one sheet?
This shit all runs together,  God I hope we’ll have good weather
Hey, this one stretches out from Rhode Island all the way to San Francisco
No, I didn’t leave my heart there
I just wanted you to know
Gotta go now – damn phone is cuttin’ out
Did you hear me?  Feel like I have to shout!
I’m driving hard again, I want to see you soon
Goodbye, you know I hate that word
Believe what I say, it ain’t no lie
When I go to sleep tonight, I’ll be swimmin ‘ in your eyes

© Sandy Hibbard