wordsout by
The
driving seat
Have
you ever ridden on the back seat, Dad?
Yes,
I’ve ridden on the back seat—
As
a child
I rode on the back seat
going on holiday, with my parents up in front.
As in a dream I heard their voices far away,
talking about me.
As
a teenager
I rode on the back seat,
in the comforting dark
of a carful of bodies crushed together,
restless with new feelings.
At
my father’s funeral
I rode on the back seat,
too old for childish tears, too young
to wear with ease the hour’s solemnity.
Nowadays
in cars to the airport in the early morning
I ride on the back seat,
with my suitcase, passport, currency,
my schedule printed neatly by my assistant,
but
today
I’m in the driving seat.
One
day I expect
I shall ride again on the back seat.
Maybe you’ll be at the wheel.
I’ll hear your voices far away,
talking about me
but
for today
I’m in the driving seat.