Dirty Boy

It was part of this realm of more sophisticated pleasures and manners
So I might as well get used to it

I sadly made my slow way home
Driving the ancient pickup truck
My beagle Daisy holding her head out the side window
Oblivious to anything that might be wrong

I kept the speed under forty
As when I went any faster
The rusted out rear fenders tended to flap in the wind
Making a mechanical pterodactyl flapping noise

Or so I was told by my children

Dirty
That's all I could think

I was so very dirty compared to that lot
With their white gloved perfection
Their sweet smelling underarms
Mostly likely perfumed buttcracks as well

I laughed at that
Out loud too
Startling Daisy and making her bark
But I stopped suddenly

Surely that crowd of clean folk would even have some sort of acronym for doing that
Laughing out loud
I strained to think of it
But the exhaust fumes in the cab of the truck had already given me a headache
So I just spit out the window and turned down my street

My old sagging single wide trailer
The model with the marvelous bay window at the front end
Axles and wheels still installed
Though hidden by the skirting now

I stopped short in the driveway
Dust swirling around me
Daisy jumped from the window
Howling after something she'd seen in the bushes

I just stared at my home
And hung my head
Staring instead at my filthy pants
And the crusty front of my work shirt

So dirty
I was out of place here
I think it is time to hitch up the trailer and move on

Maybe to someplace new
Where 'dirty' is the new 'clean'