Lessons of Life, Nbr. 354673-A |
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I left out of Reno, it was early one morn,
And headed out east, where the new day is born,
On the highway to Ely, and on further east,
Where a new job was waiting and poverty ceased.
I'd loaded my bus with essentials so bare,
sold all the rest at a yard sale back there,
With the money I'd paid off each one of my debts
With a little left over for a couple of bets.
Then long around midnight, I cranked up the bus
And got on the road with a minimum fuss,
So sure I'd forgotten not one little mote,
Why, I even remembered to look at my notes.
I drove on for hours, it seemed like much more,
And sat at the wheel till my buttocks were sore,
Then sputtering, coughing, the bus ceased to run,
And coasting in darkness, I knew what I'd done.
Soon the dawn rose up slowly, far out in the east,
But the heat rose much quicker. I thought so, at least.
As the sun kept on rising, the temperature, too,
Til inside the bus was a hundred and two.
In the sweltering heat, by the side of the road,
I sat in the desert with the seeds I had sowed:
The gauge stood at zero, my spirits did, too.
Then one lousy trucker pulled into my view.
"Whot ho!", called the trucker, an arrogant ass,
"Have you run out of fuel, or just making time pass?"
I told him my story. He laughed, kinda cruel.
Then I asked if he'd help me by giving me fuel.
Well, I rode into town with that trucker so deft,
And from there I just got on a Greyhound and left,
That's the end of my story, I'm sorry to say,
And my old bus still sits in that desert today.
04/28/95 Joel Walker
