Because our planet is our home
I was once a part of a group of poets known only to themselves as the Truckbed Tribe.
Matt, Rhoade, Alaska, Giovanni others who I do not list because I cannot remember their names sat in the back of a pickup and read poems to each other long after the stardust coffeehouse in Orlando had closed its doors.
Reading always took place in the bed of a pickup, about half the time my own 1979 Ford crew cab, I miss that truck every day. If you belonged to the tribe or knew members of the tribe I would love to hear from you.
Truckbed Tribe poets unite!
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