Saturday, June 13, 2009

Father's Day

Despite the name, this was not written for Father's Day. I just liked that name for it.


Father's Day
- by Steven for Meegan


I figured out everything about driving
while riding in the front seat with my father
while trees and side streets slid by
I watched his weathered hands
on the wheel
and the shifter
I saw the sacred rituals that made the metal monster go

His right thumb pushed the shiny cigarette lighter in
then back to the steering wheel
left hand twirled the window down
then back to the wheel again
right hand to the lighter - just as it popped out
curved hand cupped the lighter to his face
then clicked it back into place
right hand grasped the wheel
left arm raised to rest on the window seal
Then he would squint at me through the smoke
to see if I had all of that figured out

I figured out more than just how to drive
I figured out that most people are idiots
and my dad could make a car go faster than anyone else
I figured out that adventure was out there waiting
on the curvy backroads
where the trees covered the road
and out on the crunchy gravel roads
where we would stop and wade into the cold water
and look for buried treasure
and stick smooth stones that must be as old as the world into our pockets
then get back into the car
and rumble off
just before the Indians could sneak up on us

I don't know what my father thought of me
when I was a goofy kid
asking too many questions
What does this button do?
What does that light mean?
Are we gonna see Indians today?
Can I build a raft when we get to the big river?

I don't know what he would think of me now
He was gone long before I started to really figure things out

Sometimes, the little boy inside me hopes,
that on some Father's Day,
he'll come driving down our little backroad
and pull his midnight blue Ranchero into our driveway
snuff out his cigarette in the ashtray
step out
and squint at me through the last of his smoke
to see if I figured it all out
I would shake his hand
and bring him inside to meet you
And when you met him
and smiled
and gave him a kiss on his cheek,
he'd smile
and he would know
that I finally did figure it all out




2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Fathers Day touched me...well done! Cap De Crus, hmmm! It seems forced but in a sweet kind of way. It lacks a certain breavity that such a profound beauty deserves. Beauty of love, beauty of scenery and beauty of feeling.
Worry not, I take no offense with honesty. My inability to truly love stems from a dark past. As a trade off I have the ability to feel great joy and passion and sadness.
My heart actually aches with longing for the fall day when the tress, splendid with their new attire, shed their leaves. I can hear them gently laughing as they fall to the earth. If the trees do not grieve for the passing of the leaves, why should I grieve for the lack of love?
Life is to be savored, lapped up with gluttonous pleasure.
the ecclectic one

gravity_stricken said...

Thanks for the great comments on my poems.

I also enjoy autumn and love to notice little things like the sound of leaves falling. I also love the heat of summer when my bikes tires are sticky and I can lean far enough over to feel the weeds on the side of the road brushing off of the shoulder of my jacket. Gluttonous pleasure indeed. And lots of giggles.

Please keep stopping by and dropping me a note from time to time!