.30) The Sense Of Touch Poem by Max Reif

Max Reif

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.30) The Sense Of Touch

 


I hold the steering wheel
of the car in my hands,
I hold the world,

gripping tightly
its vinyl over hard plastic,
able to turn on a point
with my power steering,

peering over the dashboard
out through the windshield
at a world I seem to control,

driving at a whim on excellent freeways
to any point on or beyond the horizon.

O complacent illusion of control,
until I remembered last night's dream—
My father appeared,
my father who died five years ago.

'I'm here! ' he said. 'Touch me! '
I reached out and touched.
You are here! ' I gasped,

comforted, and woke up,
and he was gone,
and remains gone

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
... ... 22 February 2006

didn't like this as much as the crew of 1976 poem although the final 2 lines were a great close. one thing i'll say about both poems is the line breaks seem to me to be a bit out of sync sometimes for example the opening two lines of this poem.

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