Driving Lessons Poem by Percy Dovetonsils

I sympathized
with Mr Spence,
the driving instructor,
who had dual controls
and was so jumpy
he'd always beat his students
to the brakes, the clutch,
so the student brake pedal
would magically retreat
from the students' feet.

There were always
3 students
in the car
and I sensed that one,
a frosty girl
named Sterling,
had been
repeatedly molested
by an uncle,
or stepdad, or dad,

maybe had even been
raped
the night before
that morning's driving lesson.
So no wonder
she was icy
and preoccupied
when she should have been
concentrating
on her driving.

As for me,
I was concentrating
on the brilliant
morning light
that bathed us
on the end
of the Monterey Peninsula

and the bracing
breezes
cooled by the Japan Current
flowing
all the way down
from Alaska.