“Fifth Street” a poem

Hands rough with work

 hold the wheel of a dirty work truck

after a long day in the sun.

Out the window is the road you have known forever

lined with homes that house familiar faces,

and all the places you grew up in.

You pass the same bright blue trailer,

you hear the same barking dog in your neighbor’s yard

you see the same men drinking outside the gas station.

Do you see me sometimes?

I watch the dirty work truck pull into the same driveway

every evening, Monday through Saturday

But I cannot see past the front door.

I hope for applause when you walk through the door  

a familiar face that greets you every day with love

After a long day in the sun.