Well Bottom Blues

Oh my God it's full of stars!


Truck Stop Girl

This is the song I must learn pitch perfect in case I never called upon to sing an American song in a small Irish pub.

Your Humble Narrator

Tailights flickerin’ as he pulled up to a truck stop
The same old crowd was hangin’ out again tonight
He said, “Fill up my tank while I go check my load
It feels like it’s shifting all around”

He was the kind of man, do all he could
Above all he had integrity
But he was so young and on a ten city run
In love with a truck stop girl

As he went inside, he was merrily greeted
By the girl with whom he was in love
She held out a glass and said, “Have another
This is the last time we can meet”

With her hair piled up high and a look in her eye
That would turn any good man’s blood to wine
All his eyes could see, well, all his eyes could see
Was the stare from all those around him

He ran out to the lot, and climbed into his rig
And drove off without tightening down
It was a terrilble thing to see what remained
Of the rig that poor Danny was in

And he was so young and on a ten city run
In love with a truck stop girl
But he was so young and on a ten city run
In love with a truck stop girl



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About Me

Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis,  What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).

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