When Jesus returns to earth,
he’ll come as an oil-stained trucker
with a Santa Claus beard, in dark
sunglasses and Carhartt overalls.

He’ll roll out of the sleeper cab about 4:30 a.m., pop
the hood and check the engine with a flashlight.
He’ll walk around the trailer and smack
each tire twice with a torque wrench.
Then off he’ll go.

Catch the Son of God barreling down I-65 with
a left arm tan, spreading the gospel on the CB.
He keeps a five-gallon bucket lined with a
plastic bag behind the driver’s seat–
for emergencies.

He reads the years and deeper than time forehead lines
in the other drivers’ voices that crackle through the airwaves.
He feels the thrum of the earth through
his fingers on the shifter.

Around lunchtime, he’ll catch sight of a weathered, blue spray-painted sign:
HOT FOOD. TRUCK PARKING.

The Son of God will pull up there, hankering
for a patty melt and an ice-cold can of Pepsi.
He’ll order two, eat one there, and take one for the road,
and he’ll talk meaning of life and the ways of men and greed
with whoever else happens to be dining
at Earl’s Corner Kitchen.

Contributor Bio:

Lily Rex is a blue collar writer and musician based in Nashville, Tenn.