Driving A Legacy
Nick CarrawayA man winds himself too tight
Pulls back on a fire red crew cab
Bumps, shudders, and rushes to real jobs at big brick buildings
The other cars pack on an off ramp, wait, idle
While his matchbox truck knows the short cut
Slips speedingly sidelong, seeking somewhere
Off the Map
A child once wound his toy too loose
Given fuzzy green an’ gray rug roads
Shot hotwheels to make believe jobs at lego landmarks
There were no traffic trails of lurching red brake blares
No sallowing salt on inky asphalt
Just safe roadways and scrawny, skinned knees scraped
On the Map
A father first showing his son how.
Compelling careful confidence to go, to drive.
Creasing a many-folded, multi-colored, tangle of varicose arteries
Black back ways, sepia short cuts, cerulean scenic routes
Advising him to watch the gas gauge, accelerate when merging,
Stop only when needed, and always, always take heed
Of the Map
Reader Comments (5)
I really like this-- you have an economical style, which I definitely believe is critical to good poetry. Poetry is not a matrix to pour full of words like peas in a pan. It's about saying the most with the least amount of words. It's about the sounds and rhythms of the language and the devices of the trade. And verbs!!! Yours are great. Bumps, shudders, slips, scraped... I really think you did a nice job on this and it's obvious you edited the hell out of yourself-- the sign of a true poet-- never satisfied. I hope to read more of your poetry soon. There's a blizzard coming-- perfect time to write.
This is beautiful. I honestly can say this is one my favorite poems that I have ever read. You really made every word count. And Steele Fields I took a nice walk in the snow tonight; few things are better in life.
This is great. As kids, the boundaries for our Matchbox cars were illusory when we chose them to be. I love the sense of freedom narrowing here and of the need "to heed." I think about how much I looked forward to driving as a kid, but then the novice driver learns quickly how much he must pay attention to limits. The longing for that pure freedom never quite ends.
Nick,
Absolutely beautiful. I never read a poem about matchbox cars. In my youth, especially as a young man, I would have never thought I would spend so much of my time in cars. But I do. The dream of freedom and excitement that the car once incited, is one of boyhood dreams and teenagers' delight.
I also love how poetry is becoming a stable in the lunch break. There is real talent here and I do not say that lightly since I have not gone a day in the last twenty years without reading poetry. I love the taste and visions it offers in every piece. I love the burst of meaning and feeling and its inherent need to reveal good or truth. It does not beat around the literary bush, well at least the good ones. And yet in each poem, one must try to fit in and squeeze their meaning out.
Great use of the subject and meaning. I really appreciated it. Awesome lunch.
I can picture the green and grey rug, the matchbox cars and the lego cities, and all the fun of childhood. Good memories and good Catholic conscience drive you onward whether you are willing or not. Sometimes that is a good thing, allowing us to navigate on autopilot when we are otherwise too weary too care. LOVE this.