I Drive Like Shit (Not Really A Poem) Poem by Uriah Hamilton

I happen to be a terrible driver.
I’m not purposely aggressive
Nor have I ever expressed road rage.
I just happen to be absent-minded
And I have no sense of direction.

When I was seeing a certain lady,
I would drive to her house,
And then if we went to a restaurant
Or a movie theater in her neighborhood,
I’d give her the keys and let her drive.
She didn’t seem to mind.

But since she drove,
I never learned the directions
To any of the places we went,
Even though we mostly went
To the same restaurants and theaters,
I’m just that oblivious.

One day coming home from dinner,
She says, “Do you know where you are? ”
I replied, “Right here with you.”
“No, ” she says, ” If I made you get out of the car,
Would you know how to get back to my house? ”
I answered quite honestly, “If you did that,
And we were only two blocks from your place,
I might never find you again! ”
Thus my since of direction.

I’ve always enjoyed going to rock concerts,
Which often requires me to drive into downtown Detroit,
I’ve been doing this all my life,
You would think I knew the city like
The back of my hand but no such luck.
When friends are with me, I’m normally fine:
They’ll tell me, “Turn right, Uriah, ”
“The light has turned red, Uriah! ”
“Slow down, Uriah, I just saw a cop.”
Any number of helpful suggestions
Usually proffered in a vaguely pleasant tone.

But when I’m by myself, I’m dangerous:
I’ll accidentally run red lights,
I’ll miss important turns,
I’ll make crazy U-turns in a vain attempt
To remain on track and not get lost.
I honestly scare myself sometimes.

Well, Friday I was going downtown
To meet a friend
To see the singer Pete Yorn
Who was playing at St. Andrews Hall.
I’ve been there any number of times,
But I get lost every single time,
You might as well be setting me down for the first time
On the streets of London or Paris!

St. Andrew’s Hall is on Congress Street,
I drove straight to Congress easy as a breeze,
I was all proud of myself.
But Congress is a one-way street
And I was several blocks pass St. Andrew’s.
I had to turn onto another street, loop around,
And come back. Simple, right?

I kept turning from one one-way street to another
Until I was thoroughly lost and frustrated.
Congress Street seemingly vanished in mid air.
I pulled into a parking lot with an old white guy attendant
Who looked like a street-wise gypsy,
And I say, “I’m lost, I’m looking for St. Andrew’s Hall.”

The old gypsy gives me simple instructions
But I never really pay attention to anyone
Even if they’re trying to save my life,
But I thought I had the gist of what he said
And went about my way.

Several more bad turns, I’m lost again,
And I wind right back up at the same parking lot
With the same old gypsy.
Again, I say, “I’m lost.”
This time, the old gypsy sounding perturbed
With me for being stupid, says, “Listen, dog,
I told you to turn left here, at the next light
Turn right, and go four blocks.”


I’m off to St. Andrew’s again and I’m thinking,
If I don’t find it this time, and I wind up
In the old gypsy’s parking lot again,
I think he’ll kick my ass!
I’m not strictly offended with the idea
Of a guy ten years my junior kicking my ass
For looking at his girl as if
She were a delicious ice-cream sundae,
But I think my pride would be wounded
If an old man kicked my ass for being lost!