Dear Bob,
I'm afraid I can only echo the feeling that the end is very disappointing.
In fact it reminds me of that awful American ad they show every year on UK
TV
- holidays-are-coming, holidays-are-coming....and of course here come the
convoy of lorries bearing the true spirit of Christmas: Coca-flipping-Cola.
The beginning of the poem is nicely menacing. I thought it was a Juggernaut
image -time, death whatever. How about cutting or at least changing the
close?
Kind regards,
grasshopper
----- Original Message -----
From: "Bob Cooper" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Monday, December 08, 2003 3:09 PM
Subject: [THE-WORKS] New: The Red Truck...
Here's one for some C&C:
The Red Truck At The Heart Of Winter
December's a 38 ton articulated truck
full and powering down from way up north,
snow almost as solid as ice in its wheel-arches
and the sky it hurtles under is cast-iron cold
and you hope it speeds on, that motorways,
dual-carriageways, roads with well lit signs
will keep it in motion - if it hisses at lights
you can stand well back, long for it to move,
recreate its momentum over trembling miles
and not slew into the warmth of a house,
become a wall with no fireplace, just the telly
and a newsreader telling of ice on the roads -
let its rumble merely quiver the streets
as it keeps on trucking through dark nights,
that its tail-lights will reassuringly gleam
distancing you from such fearful weight,
because it's not on an endless journey -
eventually there's a ramp where it will squeal,
beep and reverse before it's back doors open
and gloved hands will tug, lug out its heavy cartons,
drag its cargo from darkness to darkness
and inside each pack, yet more boxes inside boxes
that will be rewrapped to become awkward or pleasing
in homes by fingers unaware of the cold.
Bob Cooper
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