O Cart man, My Cart Man

O cart man! My cart man! A fearful trip has begun. 
The wheels are weathered, slightly cracked, plenty left to spun.
The depot near, the bottles you hear, the people exchanging.
Follow you, steady keel to the store, grin and engaging.
But O thirst! Thirst! Thirst!
O the golden drops so bubbly. 
Where on the mattress my cart man lies,
Fallen drunk and snoring. 

O cart man! My cart man! Rise up and hear the engines;
Rise up-  traffic starts- for you the day keeps score,
For you empty cans, plastic, glass; along the road and shore.
For you, bombing hills, rolling by, their faces turning;
Here cart man! Dear, brother!
These socks beneath your head!
It must have been some detour, some journey here,
Where you steer your metal sled.

My cart man does not yell, his lips turn up and curl. 
My brother doesn't pity himself; his life to him a pearl.
His place is anchored steady and sound when the day is done.
From exhilarating trips to friendship, he has won.
Exult O days and raise that glass!
And do not with sadness tread.
Ride the dawn, my cart man forever, 
Tall, fast and free through the highway in my head.