A Tale of Two Motorists

Poem for the Pissed-Off Driver

 

I have a third eye
that sees beyond your scowl,
man-behind -the-wheel
who couldn’t bear to wait

when I slowed to turn right
and so zoomed past, horn blaring,
finding just enough time
to turn and glare at me,
mouth a “F*** you” before roaring off
to his
Clearly More Important Things.

 

My other eye
sits above the brown almonds
that punctuate my face
under thinning, graying brows.

It’s not one of those surface eyes
that blinks sweetly
at the curious toddler peering from behind
mama’s legs
in line at the market

or glazes over
when an acquaintance says
for the third time
You look great!
Have you lost weight?!

My third pond of vision
runs deep,
sloshes a little when it sees
people like you, oh swearing man
in such a hurry
to get there first.

Behind your fury
my other eye sees
the little boy
whose father berated him
for wetting his pants
on a too-long walk
from house to fishing hole
that summer’s day
when he’d really wanted
to stay in the kitchen,
coloring at the table.

Sees the sobbing teen
whose high school friend
begged off a night of partying
to stay home and shoot himself
behind the garage
with his uncle’s old gray handgun.

Sees the bewildered man
whose wife took the dog
and left a note
after seven years of
good-enough marriage.

My third eye,
mister man-with-no-extra time,
sees your heart
beating a little too fast
as time closes in around you.

After I turned right
I pulled to the side of the road
paused to gather my two hands
to my one heart

and send you love
angry driver guy,
send you peace
send you space
where you can go
to meet all your selves

and hear them
finally
hear the
gently
hear them out.

 

–Melinda Copppola

graphic artist unknown