3 poems

By Steve Henn

Adult Basic education

My Dad would listen to classical music in the car,
From some radio station at the bottom end of the frequencies.
He called the pop radio I knew so well, and loved so well,
Sometimes imagining my love for it to be a secret,
“I love you so much I got the dry heaves.” It was
One of his running jokes. My Dad had a lot of jokes.
His favorite two things to say were “they can’t all
Be winners” when we didn’t laugh and “I got
A million of em!” when we did. Dear God, do I wish
He would’ve stayed. For several rides in the Buick
Century he bought foolishly in bipolar mania at
Sticker price from the fucking Petro Brothers
Car dealership, he prodded me to volunteer
To teach adults to read in a local program known as
Adult Basic Education. He must have meant it to be
For my benefit. He must have hoped for a mentor for me
Who might understand me better than he did.
I was selfish as any 12 year old, not gifted
With an inordinate compassion, and declined.
“Inordinate” is a word my dad would use
As was his favorite, “asinine.” He only called
Other adults he imagined foolhardy or unintelligent
Or self-interested “asinine.” Each time he asked
If I would grant my time to someone who needed help
And each time I said ‘no’ or ‘no, thanks’ or ‘not really
My thing’ until he quit asking. What would’ve happened
If I’d’ve said yes? Would he have stayed? Would he have been
Entirely too proud of me to vanish as he did?

There are worse things than being a nomad

My hometown is ostentatiously Evangelical.
It’s a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t
wanna live here. I live here.
I wake up every morning thinking Dear God,
what now? The Letters to the Editor blame
the abortionists for all this Wrath of God
we’ve been getting wind of lately. Every time
they try to put on a decent First Friday
downtown worth a damn it degenerates
into homegrown missionaries recruiting
with leaflets. I’ll give em this: people do things
the way they think they oughta be done
around here. Everything short of burning crosses
on the courthouse lawn. Notice I’m not laughing.
I wonder if they teach about sundown towns
in Indiana History? I wonder if strange fruit
aren’t unfamiliar to these places’ histories.
I suppose we could turn this place into a theme park.
Ambrose Bierce first learned misanthropy here.
Kaveh Akbar learned heartbreak. Rick Fox
was taught to post up and to go up strong.
He told my point guard brother you better f*kin
throw me an alley oop. He got one but they still lost
to Concord and Shawn Kemp, who the cheer block
used to heckle by going b-b-b-b-b-b with their fingers
on their lips on account of his SAT scores. Stay classy,
Warsaw. The whole modus operandi is not to get
too smart for the locals. Or at least not smart
in the wrong ways. Memorize the Bible to your heart’s
content. Chilton’s manuals are safe as long as
it’s for anything but a Volkswagen. Anything literary
you better set on fire. I’m a local. Been here
38 of my 42 years. Or so they tell me.
God . . . help me. God help me get out of this place.
God help me get away from here.

Driver’s Ed

I asked for patience,
and we switched spots so my daughter could sit
behind the wheel.
I remember when my dad took me driving
for the first time through a parking lot then out
into the streets surrounding an elementary school
just weeks before he died.
I remember how cheerful he was, how calm
and forgiving, and tried to be the same
for his granddaughter.
Eventually, she distinguished between the brake
on the left and accelerator on the right.
Most of the time we went very slow,
barely accelerating at all.
Six, seven, eight turns learning
how to straighten out the wheel
in the new parking lot of the new school
they built to replace the old school I drove around
with my dad.
I tried very much to stay calm and cheerful
but she grew more tense as we continued.
I tried not to let it bother me.
I remember being 15 and taking a corner too fast
the wheels of his white Buick screeching.
“It is a powerful machine,” my dad said,
his heart pumping and pumping,
his lonely old heart pumping and pumping like it would never quit.