Shifting
“C’mon” – he jerks his head
and I fall in behind him,
following his steps
down beside the barn
to the rusted out yellow car.
He is determined
I need to drive a stick.
Full of old man confidence
and stubborn boy iron,
he means to be the one to do it.
I know why – I know the debt
he is atoning but I am not
inclined to be the trade.
He will be the first
of how many is it?
They all speak the same –
offer the same words ‐
Feel.
Pay attention – you will feel it
listen – feel – know
You feel that?
No, always no
And I never do.
I somehow never learn
to recognize the change
in movement,
the giving away
and failure
to grip on – to know when
to brace and change gears.
I am always on the gas
and willing everything forward.
We spend weeks in that
picked over cornfield.
He yells, he cajoles,
he smacks my leg
and hollers, “now”
and I keep on missing the signs.
and that rusty yellow car keeps
rutting itself over uneven mounds of sod.
4 thoughts on "Shifting"
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Learning to drive a stick and person who teaches you always unforgettable and I like it used as extended metaphor in this poem. And like the rusty yellow car! So much going on here
This poem is beautiful! The conceit here is really working, and I love how you ended on perpetual motion, how the poem is not allowed to neatly resolve, the tension sustained.
What a novel metaphor you make out of driving a stick shift.
The whole entire center of this poem hit me in the gut. Truth spoken. Thanks.