The question is
should he drive again?
Two weeks left
to renew his licence —
for five more years, ye gods!
Suddenly he wants to.
He wants to try
our sweet new car.
Before that he was happy
with months of being chauffeured.
I stop one day near home
and let him drive the rest
of the quiet road.
He fumbles over how to start
and I remind him.
He snaps at me
and gets us safely home.
But it’s not enough.
Now he thinks he won’t
surrender the licence.
Sometimes the pain in his legs
excludes all other thought.
He continually asks for help
with computer operations
he used to know well.
‘It’s only next Wednesday,’ I say
‘Till you see the Geriatric Specialist.
Let’s ask him if it’s wise.’
‘He’ll say no!’ he responds
at once. I rest my case.
30 Poems in 30 Days: 21, answering a question + 29, driving.
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