The next thing that's going to happen is women walking on Mars, where there are no trees for a shy man to hide when he needs to pee.
Women have come a long way since we need to tap them over the head and drag inside our caves so they could make supper for us...

Dedicated to our Annie Scarboroug


A eighteen wheels she’s driving
hundred miles gone and counting,
Smokey’s catching up on her tail
as our lil’ Annie goes on trucking.

The CB’s cracking loud and clear,
push the iron hard, get it flooring,
because it’s and extra buck or two
if you can dock before our closing!

Barreling down like an hungry tiger
her rig shots by nights and mornings
a metal snake with halogen eyes, or,
on first gear going up while fuming.

I want to be her first hitch-hiker,
to see what else in her rig is moaning,
back those little curtains in the cabin,
when on Trucker’s Stop is going loving.

Honk a couple of times if you see her,
that’s a mean poet who’s driving through,
using and eighteen wheeler for a pen
that writes on the roads for all of you.