Sunday, December 13, 2015

gas station clerk (trip poems)

kangaroo gas station
check-out girl;
not that much of a looker,
sweet, innocent,
car enthusiast

she was working
alone tonight,
starved for an
did not deny

she rambled,
telling me about
some make or model car
her uncle under-sold

not knowing much about cars,
I was poor conversation

she didn't mind,
just wanted someone to listen,
sometimes that's all anyone

she thanked me for it;
the conversation,
as I went on my way,
rejoining the others,
back on the road

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