He Could Have Been

a truck driver.  Bono.

I'm just saying.

An ordinary guy in sunglasses
and a leather jacket

filling his truck with gas

under the bright yellow canopy

marked Shell.

He stands like he owns the joint

chin at a cocky angle

as if to say

bring it on.

The glasses hiding his real

smile 

an eye grin that speaks his joy

of the open road.

I wonder if he's on the road as much

as a rock star

if he sings while he drives

if his wife takes out the garbage

if his kids really know him

like he knows the road.

The light turns green

I've been staring.

He licks his lips

flashes a peace sign

as I pull away

reflected in the mirror

of his big black shades.

- Debbie Calverley