Thoughts from a Double Driveway

Mr. Play It Safe,

was afraid to fly

—Alanis Morissette

You click away Ironic,

hear the morning gab on

Radio Wire: Heroes come in varied

shape and size. How very

Captain Obvious. You move

to change the station once again,

the weave of lute & flute

on BBC.

You know you’ve played it

cautious: a wife, no kids,

always going nowhere

in a state of “standing by”—

I’ll be your Robin Hood.

You, my Marian maid.

First let me finish school.

Find some fancy wheels

for Nottingham.

Then one week off will do.

Minimum wage is fine.

No, I can’t play hardball when

this job has just begun.

Happy Anniversary, Darling.

I guess this year it’s lace.

Now gradually lower

your lids—as if your eyes

are being shuttered

in that peeling, two-car

garage. The one with the cheap

remote inside your Dodge. Your lashes

all a-quiver like some frightened

arrow’s fletch, the one

that’s never felt 

the pull of string,

the bow that rhymes with “schmo”—

an ordinary Joe,

confusing it with the shaft

of now and bow—bent just like a

trumpet never blown, only

sat upon,

the never-taking-chances,

sounding of the charge,

too ruffled to be launched

and save the day.

Andreas Gripp

October 1, 2025

RF Image