You’ve always been unfocused when you drive.
It can’t be blamed on age or your disease.
The wonder is you’ve managed to survive
with jerky hands and eyes. Activities
requiring close attention never suit
your empathetic gifts for social good.
I’d rather never ride with you. My route
is bus or train or walk a neighborhood.

But yesterday I took the shotgun chair
and let you drive me home, and when you cut
that walker off who softly told you how,
I couldn’t reassure you you were fair.
Perhaps I should have sealed my lips and shut
my mouth, but you should give up driving now.