driving lessons
i took a driving lesson on my 20th birthday
instead of calling you
or parking on the block where our old place used to be.
malibu
laurel canyon
topanga
westlake
pathetic.
i know, but sometimes i still like to park on that street
and have a cigarette in the car like we used to do
just to feel close to you
i was once in love with my life in your bedroom with you
little lavender bouquets on every shelf because you remembered they were
my favorite flower
the tops of palm trees were our only view
out of the only window - big enough to see our future through
but it turned out i was the only one who could see it
stupid complex. terrible you. you who i waited for. you
you
you
like a broken record stuck on loop
so on my 20th birthday (plus four months later) i thought something has to change
it can’t always be about waiting
don’t tell anyone but
part of my reasoning for taking driving lessons
was this idea
that if i could become a good navigator on my own
an independent woman
that perhaps i could stop looking
for direction and guidance - from you
well, what started out as an idea on a whim has turned into something more
too shy to explain that this lesson was not for me
it was me taking orders from someone else
not you
at that precious little strip off santa monica and bundy
and everything was going fine
we drove on the highway and towards the one
on the way to the pch
my instructor (28 years old, only 3 years older than you)
instructed me to do a narrow sharp turn up topanga canyon
it’s not that i didn’t do it but i
was slow to lean the mercedes into a
right hand upward turn
scared it was narrow
scared that i would lose control
by the cliff
not tactfully and not gently the instructor shook his head and without looking at me, said
“you don’t trust yourself.”
i was horrified.
feeling as though someone had found me out like he knew me
how weak i was
of course, he was only talking about my ability as a driver on the canyon
but i knew it was meant for me to hear those words
for me they a held deeper meaning
i didn’t trust myself
not just driving the narrow steep canyon
looking towards the coastline
but with anything. and i didn’t trust myself with you
i could have said something
but i was quiet
because drivers and teachers are not like poets
they don’t always make deeper meanings and metaphors
between life and the road
in the midst of that mid-drive meltdown navigational exercise in self examination
i also decided to do something else i always wanted to do without you
take a sailing lesson in the vibrant bay of marina del rey
i signed up for the class with my middle name and nobody blinked an eye
so why was i so sure that when i walked into the tiny shack on Bali Way
someone would say
“you are not meant for the sea or the road”
you are just a young girl not even 21
no , the teacher didn’t care about my youth that meant so much to you
and so neither did i
and for a brief moment i felt more myself than ever before -
uncaring
letting the self - proclaimed professor of the sea’s lesson wash over me
like the foamy tops of the sea
midway through, my forehead burned and
my hands raw from jibing, the captain told me
the most important thing was i needed to know to never
run the ship into irons
that’s nautical terms for not
sailing the boat directly into the wind
in order to do that, though, you would have to know where the wind is coming from
and you might not have time to look up to the mast
or up further to the weather vane
so you have to feel where the wind is coming from
on your cheeks and by the tips of the white waves
from which direction they’re rolling
to do this, he gave me an exercise
he told me to close my eyes and feel on my neck which way the wind was blowing
i already knew i was going to get it wrong
“the wind is coming from everywhere - i feel it all over” i told him.
“no.” he said. “the wind is coming from the port side.”
i sat waiting for him to tell me “you don’t trust yourself.” but
he didn’t. so i said it for him. “i don’t trust myself.”
he laughed gentler than the driving instructor. but still not realizing that my failure in the exercise was hitting me on a
much deeper level
“it’s not that you don’t trust yourself.” he said. “it’s simply that you are not a sailor or a captain. it’s not what you do.”
then he told me he wanted me to practice every day so i would get better
i could picture myself growing a better sense of the way the wind was blowing and as i did a tiny bit of deeper trust also began to grow within myself
i thought of mentioning it but i didn’t.
because captains aren’t like poets
they don’t make metaphors between the sea and the road
and as i thought that to myself i realized
that’s why i write.
all of this circumventing the earth was to try to get back to my life
six trips to the moon for my poetry to arise