Happy Halloween USMers by Man Of Asgard

If you like this please send others here to also enjoy it.

NANCY THE HITCHIKING NURSE
By Londis Carpenter
Copyright © Londis Carpenter 2004


There’s a stretch of bad road on route sixty-six,
I’ve heard seasoned truck drivers say.
It’s silent and bare, with a chill in the air,
where travelers have oft’ lost their way.
The birds never fly in its overcast cast sky
and it always seems strangely still.
No dogs will bark and the moon cast strange
green shadows across the mill.
Most truckers avoid accepting a load that
would cause them to pass through or near.
But I’ve never believed and refused to heed
tales of superstition and fear.
Now in late October of seventy-three
came an offer I couldn’t decline.
A truckload of brew would be soon overdue
if no driver was found who would sign.
I took the dispatch, having hard luck for cash,
and no reason in my mind to fear.
I’d deliver the load past that bad stretch of road
and the locals would all have their beer.
With my truck loaded down I was soon out of town
on the road headed out to the mill.
I felt happy and free; I’d received half my fee,
leaving bad luck behind on the hill.
A lightning bolt flashed with a thunderous crash
and the sky turned strange colored tones.
The clouds spilled out rain like a world gone insane
and a chill froze my flesh to my bones.
I drove until late in the night feeling great
and I rounded a hazardous curve
Where I got a surprise as a sight caught my eyes
that caused me to veer and to swerve.
At the edge of the road stood a lady in white
with her thumb out to ask for a ride
I hit the brake hard and I slid to a halt
and she eagerly climbed up inside.
So I popped her a beer and the lady began
to talk as she sipped at her brew
From the words that she spoke it was clear
she was broke and had missed meals—
more than a few.
So I took her to dine a little past nine
at a cafe we passed on the road.
I watched as she ate all the food on her plate
then she smiled as her story she told.
She sought a new life to escape all the strife
of a past she could barely endure
She left all to be free from her past misery
taking naught but the clothing she wore.
She told of her schemes to build on her dreams,
someday be a nurse wearing white
She was nobody’s fool—she could breeze through the
school
as a waitress she’d work through the night.
When I got up to go she told me goodbye—
said,"I know there’s a place here for me."
She thanked me and smiled and she told me her name,
"Just call me nurse Nancy," said she.
So I paid off my tab and got in my cab feeling
glad to be back on the road.
I soon reached the mill and delivered my ale
I was proud to be rid of my load.
The storm now had eased to a mild autumn breeze
and I turned back the way I had came.
And I hummed an old song as I rambled along
and I wondered nurse Nancy's real name.
When I reached the café at the break of the day
I pulled in for coffee and eggs.
When the waitress came by I said, "Tell Nancy hi!"
and the hot coffee spilled on my legs!
I had startled her so she had let the pot go and
the glass shattered over the floor.
And the poor waitress said, "You dishonor the dead
making bad jokes inside of this door,"
I was sorely confused, feeling some sort of ruse
had made me the butt of a scam.
But the glances and leers and the waitress’s tears
gave me cause to ask her to explain.
I could see her surprise by the look in her eyes
that a trucker like me hadn’t heard
Of a girl who’d been slain, named Nancy McClain
who’d been dead now for nearly ten years.
A madman had came in from out of the rain
and attacked her here in the café.
Shot her in the head and left her quite dead
and then somehow had gotten away.
She had worked for six years saving tips in a jar
to pay for her schooling she said
But Nancy the nurse had left in a hearse
and she now rested safe with the dead.
There are poems that can say in a lyrical way
every thought that a man may enjoy.
But what lies in his heart he can only impart by the
music a song may employ
For music rings clear when it reaches our ear,
bringing tears and laughter and hope.
It can sound the same as the cold autumn rain,
saying things that mere words can’t emote.
And music that’s born in the heart of a storm
amid flashes of lightning and din
Or the rushing sound of floods coming down
like the march of a thousand men.
Can sound the same as the rush of the rain
saying things we can never expain
With a tune so sad it can drive a man mad.
so I cried as I drove in the rain
There are things I believe and things I know
there are things I can never explain.
But I’ve driven that road with many a load
and I never saw Nancy again.

Show all stories by   Author:  54444 ( Click here )