Psycho Trucker

P.T. White line fever. It’s nothing compared to what I see when it stops. Whenever I try to sleep. A girl I picked up, gave a ride to… ‘Helping her out’. Dead. And they thought I did it. Some people still do. Put me away for years until they decided they’d got it wrong. But it was too late by then, I forgot who I was supposed to be and took whatever work I could get driving rigs with a name like mine, let alone the history that comes with it. Driving for the wrong kinds of business people as it turns out. The kind who’ll let you know when they’re done with you and never the other way around. It’s simple really. Drive. Don’t stop for anything and don’t ask any questions. But when I’m told tonight’s it. The last run. I’m not exactly sure what that means. And I don’t ask any questions. I never stop. Not for anything. Until tonight. Until her. It’s like the dead coming back to life for a moment, but once I grab her. Once I feel her against me. I know tonight really is the last run for both of us. No more running. No more anything that isn’t just two things from now on. Me and her.