Turtles All the Way Up
 

Turtles All the Way Up

There is no road ahead for you to steal.
Your road rage will not change the way I drive.
You only have two pedals and a wheel.

Believe me, I have nothing to conceal—
There's no agenda crafted to deprive
You any inch of road ahead to steal.

This honking ceaselessly will just reveal
You're not the sharpest Hornet in the hive.
I, too, have only pedals and a wheel.

You race ahead, then brake till tires squeal.
It hurts your ego, driving forty five.
There is no road ahead of me to steal.

You'll never reach the speed you think ideal,
Or shift your cruise control to overdrive.
You only have two pedals and a wheel.

The pulsing brake lights slalom like an eel
As marching turtles steadily arrive.
There is no road ahead of me to steal—
So impotent, those pedals and that wheel.

A villanelle, and a timely subject at this time of year. I live in Alaska, and October is when newcomers to the state learn how to drive in icy conditions. Many of them experience the same frustration as the impatient driver your N is dealing with.

The only question I had was on S6L1. I’m having trouble visualizing what, exactly, the brake lights are doing that could be described as slaloming. Otherwise, nice job!

Glenn

Thanks, Glenn.
I was picturing cars bumper-to-bumper on a curvy road. You'd see their brake lights move in waves along the line. You're lucky if you haven't driven through Chicago on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving!

Turtles All the Way Up
 

Hi Marshall,
I like this a lot: such clever and concise use of language. The first line, and its variations, deftly conjure up the kind of person who just can't bear to drive behind another car. (I like this perspective on him, too--instead of just dismissing him (or her) as an idiot, you give some insight into his character. The poem makes me wonder: If he must have those extra few yards of road, is he that way in the rest of his life, too?)

The only thing that confused me was the title. When I read it, I thought the poem was going to refer to the Native American idea of the Earth being supported by a ladder of turtles. But the poem didn't go there at all (unless I missed something--always a possibility). So when I arrived at the turtles crossing the road, I had a bit of a hard time deciding if they were real or symbolic.

Otherwise, I thoroughly enjoyed this. Thanks.
Barbara

I like this. It's the right sort of poem to be a villanelle, IMO.

I find the title distracting. I get the turtle thing, but it doesn't fit the poem. I started off thinking he was talking to an actual turtle. Maybe that's just me trapped in my prison of literalness, but I don't think so. It's the wrong joke for this poem.

I do like the poem. Thanks for posting it.

Thanks, Barbara!
Good point about defining the character behind. I have to be careful not to assume too much!
Yes, that's the phrase and image I borrowed. But since the cars are ahead, it's "up". The "arriving turtles" are cars entering the highway and merging, adding to the congestion.

Welcome, Marshall! I recognize you as a frequent Light contributor.

"sharpest Hornet in the hive" lands well, an -ive rhyme I wasn't expecting.

Some of the -eal rhymes feel forced, including the repetend "steal," which doesn't feel like what the impatient driver is trying to do. I don't know why the angry driver would think N was concealing anything.

The congestion is described in terms of what isn't (no road ahead). If at least once the crowd of cars (referred to missably in the title) were mentioned, it would be more present in the poem.

The title made me expect something metaphysical.

FWIW.

John and Max:
Good point about using the title for setting the traffic congestion scene! How about "Parkway Parade" or "Gridlock Aggression"?

When you're maintaining a minimum following distance and someone squeezes into it, I feel like there is a "steal" of your position. But yeah, I'll work on replacing the "deprive" stanza.

Marshall, I'm afraid this isn't working for me. I'll try to explain why. First some general remarks, then some inline comments.

I too was put off by the word "steal," since it's not a word I would ever use in this context. Indeed, I didn't even understand what you meant by it. When you start with "There is no read ahead for you to steal," I was immediately confused since I took it literally, i.e., the road is ending so there is no road ahead. The way I now understand you to have meant it, however, is not how I would phrase it. When someone tries to pass me on a highway, I don't ever think of it as someone trying to "steal" the road. Do you? I literally didn't understand what you meant, and I didn't even think of the possibility that you meant the distance between the speaker and the car ahead of the speaker.

But my bigger issue with the poem is that it doesn't really go anywhere. You've pretty much said everything in the first three lines, and the rest of the poem is simply keeping it going for the sake of the form. This, of course, is what makes villanelles so hard to write, since the need to keep using the same two lines makes it difficult to develop a new thought or go off in a new direction.

When I read a poem (or when anyone does, for that matter) my mind immediately goes into the mode of actively trying to detect metaphors or greater meaning. When there's a "road" in a poem, it's usually more than just a road, as in 'the road not taken" and many other familiar poems and songs. What I was looking for in your poem, and not finding, was at least a small hint or vague sense that we are dealing with more than just one particular road, and the driver is on some sort of significant journey. Instead, at the end I could only conclude that the poem is no more than it appears on the surface, which for me was not sufficiently interesting.

I have a suggestion for you to consider. I think it would be more interesting if you made the speaker into the angry driver. Something like:

There is no road ahead for me to steal.
My road rage will not change the way I drive.
I only have two pedals and a wheel.

That would change the focus from a dismissive and superior narrator who presumes to know everything about the driver of the car behind him, to a confessional narrator who is authoritatively telling us his own feelings and experience.

I can’t argue about the most natural way to say it, since it’s been years since I’ve driven or even been in the US, but oddly enough, I never doubted for a moment what was meant.