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Late Summer 1978
My thumb uut on the highway.
Feeling free, no more mom,
No more asshole stepfather
Semi-truck stops in fromt of me
I climb in.
Big Man, bald, in his fifties
Easy for him to convince me I was tired.
To entice me to climb back into the "sleeper"
In the back of the truck
The engine of the truck
Rocked me to sleep.

�

This is all of the poem I can write at the moment.� Try againj soon.� Thought if I wrote online it might come out

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