Little Yellow Truck

White blond hair parted on the sidecombine

Belied the six year old mind

Living in a fifty-nine year old body.

Ocean eyes

glared with anger

through the rear window of a Dodge

as his house faded into memory.

 

I won’t cry. 

“Big boys don’t cry,” his Momma said.

“We’ll buy you another truck,

a bigger truck, a better truck.”

But it won’t be my truck

his silent heart responded. 

The one that’s yellow

with numbers on the side.

The one with special wheels

dirt in all the right places

and a scoop for digging

and picking up rocks.

 

Please don’t make me move again

            his insides shouted!

I have to leave behind

all the things I treasure

along with Jimmy

my best friend next door.

Who shares my birthday

at night in the tent in our backyard

with the flashlight

and my little yellow truck.

                                               

Starring out another window…

            another plane…

another city, another place…

            memories of another time…

blond hair now white as mackerel clouds,

sounds of a whimpering child crying,

“I don’t want to go,” in the next airline seat

an isle over

brought forth unresolved pain

with a blow unexpected.

They lied when they said,

“Big boys don’t cry!”

They cry all right.

They cry inside.

So only they can hear the tears. 

 

So it won’t disturb Dad or Mom,

Too busy with their own lives

            to know…

That little boys

who aren’t allowed  to have feelings

become scared, scattered,

lonely men…

always getting on airplanes

going to parties, pretending

pretending they’re having

              a really good time.

 

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2 thoughts on “Little Yellow Truck

  1. This is so hard to read for me. It hits a little too close to home, I think, but in a way I can’t readily identify.

    I’d say it’s beautiful, but I’m not sure that’s the right word. It is powerful, though.

  2. I have often thought of how hard it must be to be a man in our society. They say men couldn’t handle the pain of childbirth…I think women would have an equally difficult time trying to hold the pain inside. Darc said it–this is powerful, Sara.

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