I Drive Like Shit (Not Really a Poem)
I’ve always enjoyed going to rock concerts,
Which often requires me to drive into downtown Detroit,
I’ve been doing this all my life,
You would think I knew the city like
The back of my hand but no such luck.
When friends are with me, I’m normally fine:
They’ll tell me, “Turn right, Uriah, ”
“The light has turned red, Uriah! ”
“Slow down, Uriah, I just saw a cop.”
Any number of helpful suggestions
Usually proffered in a vaguely pleasant tone. Several more bad turns, I’m lost again,
And I wind right back up at the same parking lot
With the same old gypsy.
Again, I say, “I’m lost.”
This time, the old gypsy sounding perturbed
With me for being stupid, says, “Listen, dog,
I told you to turn left here, at the next light
Turn right, and go four blocks.”