Last Fridays session with my therapist, dropped a bomb on me to a full effect. Talking about the dissection of daily life, the word came out of nowhere, redneck. I became dumbfounded like I didn't understand the term. Certain tactics, they use to get the reaction, reading body movement in a squirm. My eyes drift to the ceiling, knowing country is in a line of blood. Raised on a farm, working day and night, within heat, or mud. Plenty to do whether it's feeding livestock, or taking a tractor apart. Drinking beer when a job is done, watching stars appear after dark. Waking up early before the sun can rise, already dressed as boots are laced. Tightening up the belt to carry pliers and a knife, applied at my waist. Grab some leathers, heading out to unplug the truck. Diesels back then, needed extra love for an easy start when driving clutch. Hook up hog trailer for selling swine, difficult can be the loading task. But after a good thirty with fifty head on board, sunlight breaks shadows into what is cast. Driver takes off to get ahead of a game inside the sale. As dust flees from tires, only lights seen is the ass end of a tail. It could be true what she said, but I'm a blended mix of all sorts. I do enjoy music while drinking, sitting on the porch. Wearing jeans with holes is free air-conditioning, no inflation there. Tons of stories coming, endless times to share.
- Author: ChaoticInsight81 ( Offline)
- Published: December 18th, 2022 01:58
- Comment from author about the poem: I've adapted to various ways of life. Redneck is one.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
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