I don’t know how driving has so quickly become a form of therapy for me – I’ve been doing it for less than a year. Somehow, I went for 22 years without any desire to get behind the wheel; this seemed rational at the time, but I no longer understand. I suppose I was driven by the fear and intimidation bred by avoidance. Nowadays, I rely on the point in each day where I slide into the familiar grooves of leather, adjust the windows and vents to bathe in the proper mixture of fresh and manufactured air, and find just the right track (be it via radio, disc, or auxiliary) to free something within me as I fly over hills and careen around corners.
I abused my beloved car pretty badly this evening after an atrocious shift at work. I slammed the pedal to the floor at every green light and onramp – 6000 rpm borders on the red zone. 64 maxes out the stereo volume and the subwoofer dangerously shakes the rear windshield – I half expected it to shatter like my sanity as I screamed angsty lyrics with the window down, unseasonably frigid air rushing through my hair and lungs. Thankfully, Maria spent her formative years in the tender care of a nun, so she’ll have no choice but to forgive me, especially when I take her for a spa day at Crown Toyota next weekend.
This is the first, very rough draft – please suggest changes. I’ll appreciate them in the morning.
“the scene ends badly, as you might imagine
in a cavalcade of anger and fear”
- The Mountain Goats, "This Year"
Relief
floats
like a balloon,
nowhere to go but up -
swelling,
seemingly invincible,
but always so fleeting and fragile.
A sideways look, an ill-placed word…
the outside pressure overwhelms again and
collapses back to a more natural state.
Tension wrinkles what once was smooth;
anger tingles just beneath the surface.
Goosebumps rise as
pores tighten to keep it all inside.
Minute hand delivers on its promise -
leather and plastic absorb the curses
as rhythms of the road and
rhyming rants
coalesce -
building toward
release.
May 7th, 2010 (edits May 9th, 2010)
I really like it, rough as it may be; definitely relatable because whatever happiness you've built up (the balloon, of course) can be destroyed by one small poke or criticism.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad the Mountain Goats came to your rescue, it's the first track of that mix I made in December, am I right? :D The perfect driving song.
It is, and that disc (particularly that song) has been in the rotation since Christmas. This time, though, it was the copy toward the end of a mix loaned from WCP that got the blast and repeat treatment. That is, until I turned around at Eudora and changed tracks... WCP, I totally understand now how "Bones" could go around and around for 52 miles. It just kind of plays back into itself everytime, and it's hard to break the cycle.
ReplyDeleteYes. You're quite good at this spontaneous poetry aren't you!
ReplyDeleteI like the balloon. I love this line:
"A sideways look, an ill-placed word…"
and the final stanza is wonderful:
emotion through imagery!
I'm not sure about "oh, so" and "orb" but you've got the balance between feelings and things and that's always most important to me in a poem.
Bravo.
What if "oh" changed to "always" instead? That might get at the frustration in a more sophisticated way... Not sure what to do with "orb," though, but you're right - that was one of the spots that bothered me.
ReplyDeleteI find it kind of hilarious that I got at emotion through imagery/things without even trying or being aware of it - I guess we've got hard evidence that you successfully taught someone something this semester! (As if we needed proof...)
You'll find the right words; you may already have them.
ReplyDeleteI don't think it was teaching so much as that reader/writer intuition that can't be taught, that you, my friend, have in spades. After all, you can't start reading at two and a half :) and expect not to be a poetic genius!