A middle aged poet learns to drive.

  At age 48 I found it necessary to drive again. I never really drove at all,save to pass the test 20 years ago. After that I put my questionable skills to rest, and thought nothing more of it. But as fate would have it, I needed to learn to drive again for my new job; and I needed a patient and skilled teacher to guide me back into the world of the mobile.

Being a poet ain't easy, but being a poet and a student driver can be taxing both for the teacher and the would-be driver. First of all, you have to stay focused when you drive. If you don't you might well end up in the Charles River, or make a pancake out of some innocent pedestrian.  As a poet, I find my attentions constantly wandering. It is just an instinct, as unconscious as my next breath, to look for material that catches my interest. So--when I have to make that hands -down full stop at the light, that unearthly beauty of a jogger trotting down the street, or that curiously named sign post ( Hamlet St. for instance) can easily throw me off, into a traffic violation or oblivion, whatever the case may be.  Also I guess my poetic nature makes me prone to daydreaming. This is not good when you are in the mad rush of  traffic on Mass. Ave or Somerville Ave. That daydream of that Summer fling in days of yore , can create a firewall between you and your instructor, as the car breaks the glass barrier of the Grand Coffeehouse ( a place where poets hang, so they probably wouldn't even look up), your favorite hangout. I really don't think driving instructors like poets anyway. Lucien, my instuctor, a Haitian gentleman of reasonable patience, shows absolutely no interest in my poetry, and often barks out such humdrum directives as: " Signal," "Stop," and " Slow Down." Truth be told, I think he would rather see me behind a book than the steering wheel of a car. I think my wife summed it up the best when she said: " Honey, I love you but I wouldn't drive with you if my life depended on it." And you know what? My wife is a poet.

 * Published in the Somerville News and Poesy Magazine.

Doug Holder