Le trucker

This takes me back to when I used to hang out in truck stops on a trip to France. I spent a summer hitchhiking and met the most beautiful hunks and discovered the quality of life in a truck.

I think it's been over two weeks now.

Back here in the darkness - behind the curtain - which I have come to know as THE PORTAL.

At strange times of the night a sandwich in triangular packaging, or a pie, or a sausage-roll is thrown into the darkness - with me - amongst the man-scented cushions that intoxicate my very being.

Will my family miss me? What's happeing in the real world? I hear snippets of news clippings before the channel gets switched back to Country FM 24/7.

Oh God. The sound of engine brakes and the hiss of front-end brakes ... we've come to a halt ... he must be in the mood ... I'm scared ... I'm thrilled ... the adrenaline courses through my very being ... he's taken his shirt off already - exposing the white singlet of pure glory ... he's coming through the portal ...

'Assume the position!' is all I hear, but I'm pretty sure he means to say 'I love you', 'I want you', 'let's make trucker love'

The number.

2625 Trucker

Always.

My face. Buried into the 2625 scented cushions of completedness.

Thank you.