Mobile Man Cave

The road is my oyster

A paved type of cloister

 

However bumpy steep or fair

World problems are fixed there

 

Whether curves or a straight line

None that are solved are mine

 

Gear down and climb that hill

Thirty years it’s still a thrill

 

A little left or right I must steer

Getting paid to sit on my rear

 

Driving between dotted and white line

Thinking of the fun ways to rhyme

 

Stop at red or go at the green light

Inside the cab, I am recondite

 

Some think my schedule is hectic

I find it peacefully hermetic

 

Get out and thump that tire

It’s to write that I aspire

 

Three trailers behind me draggin’

Some call it a wiggle wagon

 

Rolling along down the highway

No one to tell me to do it my way

 

Coming to the end, it’s time to yield

Looking at the world thru a windshield