My Dad Taught Me To Drive Stick Shift
My Dad taught me to drive stick
On warm Sunday mornings while Chicago slept
Before the church people left and returned
On a freeway still under construction
Past yellow barricades and
Caution signs
Recklessly cautious
Without benefit of power steering
And power brakes
We flew past run down homes
And new skyscrapers
We owned the road
The lesson was simple
Real drivers drive shift
They control the car
Balance clutch and gas
Life requires our attention
It demands our patience
We advance slowly and carefully
Real drivers drive shift
And so we traveled
Across a city still lazily stretching
Not quite awake
Down a freeway under construction
On side streets and in parking lots
We owned the city
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
