sitting in the front with my dad

a poem about distancing from a father figure

you know how they say some things
are a blessing and a curse
he taught me all about the gear shift first
one second, third,
i wasn’t very good
and his hand overtook
strong and sure
pulling down to fourth
it crushed my fingers
but i cared to linger
on the off chance
his pride would simmer

and how
will i take in anything now
that i am learning
without him
when i cannot underline
the words on the page
like the lines on his face
i mistake myself for someone
with a talent for something
but now i am driving
an automatic car
because it is easier