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Possibly me.

T shirts and jeans and long hair tied back in a ponytail.
Big and fat and a deeply tanned arm.
Still climbing on the back of wagons to lay that canvas down.
Securing the load with webbing straps and ratchets.
The old boy in the yard doing a young mans job.
Roping and sheeting in all weathers and all seasons.
Carrying the loads that other drivers cannot cope with.
Singing songs with made up verses.
Giving the bird to the world.

Andy Fox 040519
Blue collar poem..

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Snapdragons for his grave in purest white.
Catnip to surround him in his death as in life.
His light will live on with me.
My love for him will never die.

Andy Fox  14 April 2019.

Tigger Fox.Born June 2001.Died April 2019 age 17 yrs 10 months.
My best friend.My cat.

Thank Fuck.

There is nobody to follow me into this stupid trade.
I am the last of the family line.
Remember me,and those like me,
who followed our fathers into the family way.
They boys who drove trucks.

My grandfather drove busses.
My father drove trucks.
I am the last of the pro driver line.
I have no sons to follow me down the family way.
Thank fuck for that say I.
Thank fuck.

Aye thank fuck.
The last of the line to have wind cracked fingers.
The last to have sun soaked arms.
The last to have skin that is like tanned leather.
The last that look everywhere and nowhere.
The last of the line to drive trucks.
Thank fuck.

Andy Fox. 220219
It knew where it was going even if I didn’t..

Ten Four.

As the last wave of thunder rolled over the valley I set my sights a hair higher.
As lightning struck I pulled the trigger on my rifle.
Thunder rolled overhead once more disguising the report of my shot.
The figure at the rear of the group of men collapsed.

I aimed again.
This time I aimed at the driver of the leading truck.
Before I could pull the trigger my radio whispered in my ear.
“That bastard is mine.”

I smiled to myself.
“Ten four.” I said quietly.
Thunder rolled down the valley.
The driver of the leading truck died.

I aimed at the driver of the armoured vehicle.
He sat tall,
His head in clear  view.
I pulled my trigger.
A few seconds later his head burst open.
The vehicle shuddered to a halt.

I send a code over the radio.
Explosions rent the valley.
Screams followed shortly afterwards.
“You thought you were hunting easy meat.”
I said the words softly.
“We lead you into a trap.”

A second set of explosions came.
The floor of the valley heaved and buckled.
I triggered my radio.
“Move out.” I said softly.
“Ten four.” came the reply.
“Wolf pack out.”

Andy Fox 301218

Bloodthirsty bastard.And this fell from my fingers so bloody easily..

We are gathered here.
It is a wet Sunday in November.
Remembrance Sunday.

We stand to remember our fallen.
It is the first time in many years that my mother has attended.
The first time that she has attended without my father.

A gentle soul shelters her from the rain with his brolly.
I stand bareheaded and feel my hair turn colour.
Silver turns to oaten blonde.

We are but two of many here and the many are the whole.
There is a unity of purpose here.
A unity of spirit.

I was not born here but this town raised me.
I am just one of many and part of the whole.
This town.
My home.

Andy Fox 201218

Drive.

I have driven in a fog so thick I was driving through clouds.
I driven on roads so soaked with rain that I was the helmsman on a liner.
I have driven on roads so thick with snow that I sang to hide my fear.
I have driven hundreds of miles and felt sorrow when the journey ended.

For all the days that I have been truly scared
for all the times that I have cursed my own stupidity and
for all the times that I wished I had taken another course in life.
For all those times,and more,there are others that,in both night and day,
I have truly been alive.

Andy Fox 251118

Tigger.

I found him sleeping in the shade of the Fatsia Japonica
He is little more than skin over bones.
He has never been this skinny before.
Should I tell you how badly I am worried?
I bring him shredded chicken in a bowl.
I wait anxiously to wake and test my gift.
I sigh in relief as his nose twitches and he explores.
I wander out to my car,sit on the floor beside it and fill my eyes.
Himself walks to me and settles in my arms,
I talk to him.
I tell him I love him and always will.
He still walks jauntily,my ever lovely boy,
but he is naught but skin and bones.
And I worry for him.

We go to the vets.
I ask that he be checked for illnesses or infections.
Yes I really am that worried about him.
The vet finds nothing.
She watches,amused,as he lets himself off the examining table.
He explores the surgery.
She picks him up and weighs him.
He hits her.
She does not worry.
“He is eighteen human years.Ninety something in cat years.”
She tells me this while stroking him.
He is tucked into me.
“Daddy’s boy.” she says with a smile.
“I am owned.” I reply. “And I love him.”

Today I watched him devour a slice of turkey.
Today he walked into my arms for a cuddle.
Today,as with yesterday and tomorrow,I love him.
Tigger.
My boss.
Andy Fox 1407