Driving to Whitstable with my father

Gold cherry

By maggyvaneijk

Sat, 12 Oct 2013
  • 6004 reads
15 comments
 

When people look into our car, they see me
a hitchhiker of twenty-three
passenger seat, hands on knees
eyes fixed on a hole in my jeans.
I am too busy too speak
too busy making apologies
for everything
that’s going to happen.

I’m sorry I won’t make you laugh as much as your friend
the ski instructor, with the whippy blonde hair.
I’m sorry I won’t be like that woman who comes round
white boots and hiccups
licking her wine
as she mews across your kitchen floor.

How much more
of our
stereoscopic
lives,
can we blend and stitch?

Because neither of us knows
how to tell the truth.

I remember porte de bras
in front of other people’s parents
secretly imagining them
as a sea of affection.

I remember
cutting my toenails so short they bled
and removing plasters in slow and painful ways,
and that time mum drove off for days
because the sight of us made her mad
and you chose Italian landscapes and ashy shades of blonde.

You were the first to break my heart
the primal wound, the blueprint for all others.
In my writing
someone like you
is always leaving. 

I wish I could make us something beautiful, a forest
with Charles Aznavour singing For me, formidable
and we could dance, my feet on top of your feet
sweeping through the trees
you are the one, for me, for me, our never-ending story but…

I’m sorry I can’t tell you how to be my parent
I’m sorry about your monoglot affection
I still can’t decide if it’s your fault or mine
blame dances around my head
like a postcard with
an illegible address.

I blink and shrink the houses along the road
and you clear your throat
to tell me something

about lobsters
or something.

 

 

 

Certificate PG
Poem
Love

Comments

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

I always know it's going to be something special when I see your name. Good to see you back maggy

 

Submitted by maggyvaneijk on

Thanks Insert, that means a lot! 

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

The honesty in this made me think of Nabokov's The Enchanter, maggy. Loyalties and love spun in to the most enchanting poem.

 

Submitted by maggyvaneijk on

Thank you Vera!

 

Submitted by hudsonmoon on

Good to see your name pop up again. You've been missed. Some lines hit a nerve, this one in particular:

You were the first to break my heart
the primal wound, the blueprint for all others.

Cheers, Maggy

Rich

 

Submitted by maggyvaneijk on

Thank you Rich, keen to check in on all your writing I've missed!

 

Submitted by blighters rock on

I was never that close to my Dad. He thought sentimentality was a weakness and had his head in an elusive equation most the time. A man of the world, not the family.

I love the anxious mind-fumbling between these two characters, like two strangers sitting next to each other on a bus or even young lovers on a first date. They seem so close it's almost like they can read each other's mind, or perhaps there's the fear of that. Familiarirty's distance. As usual, the large smattering of comedy and quirkiness that you place in your work allows for the deeper questions you ask to surface, hence here's me pondering my own journeys with my Dad. 

 

Submitted by Luke Neima on

This is our Facebook and Twitter pick of the day.
 
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Submitted by maggyvaneijk on

Thanks for your comment Blighters, and super thanks for the pick of the day. 

 

Submitted by scratch on

Outstanding maggy, simply outstanding.

 

Submitted by AliciaB on

thanks for this. I like the imagery (whippy hair, white boots, hiccups, postcards). I find this para quite haunting and wry. 

 

I wish I could make us something beautiful, a forest
with Charles Aznavour singing For me, formidable
and we could dance, my feet on top of your feet
sweeping through the trees
you are the one, for me, for me, our never-ending story but…

we'd all like families to be loving, to be easier, but most of the time, it's not the case.

cheers

Alicia

 

Submitted by celticman on

Lovely stuff maggy. Who else but you -and a few fishermen-could finish with lobster or something? Beauty is truth here.

 

Submitted by tcook on

Wow! Even by your high standards this is a gem. As a father it made my heart bleed. I've sent it to both of my daughters and my son (who is now a father)! We shall discuss it. Oo-er.

Submitted by maggyvaneijk on

Thank you everyone for your kind comments, means the world to me. And thanks Tony! Hope you're well x

 

Submitted by leroy mockbee on

Once or twice a month, I make a point to check and see if you've posted anything new.

Always a pleasure to see that you have.