Itinerant
I’ve worked in oil fields,
facing danger for good money,
I’ve sailed on the crab boats
where the oceans churn and freeze.
I’ve drove the long-haul truck,
through the ice and much up to my knees,
I’ve dug that black gold coal
so the people have light and head.
I’ve worked the power lines
and been nearly fried, yes, it’s true,
I’m an itinerant,
cannot stop and I don’t want to.
I’ve dug a soldier’s grave,
so in peace they’ll lay restfully.
I’ve laid with lonely wives,
that’s why all your kids look like me.
I’ve been a handyman,
fixing your doorjamb and windows,
I’ve worked the carney scene,
on the rides helped all the kids go.
I’ve cut in the Maine woods,
as a logger should, what a view,
I’m an itinerant,
cannot stop and I don’t want to.
I’ve worked behind the bar,
slinging beers out to tired men,
even been a crossing guard,
so children go home safe again.
I’ve swept up city streets,
to see them filthy the next way,
I’ve worked the onion fields
in the hot sun outside L.A.
I’ve done so many things,
making my money someplace new,
I’m an itinerant,
couldn’t settle and don’t want to.
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment