Lost
Tell me the way to anywhere,
And it will be unremembered
By the time I’m less than halfway there,
My brain being encumbered
With directional dyslexia,
Rendering such information
A source of amnesia,
Topographical disorientation,
Anxiety and often panic.
When you see me walking somewhere bound,
Looking decidedly more manic
Than a man who knows his way around,
Feel free to offer your assistance;
But when I’m alone behind the wheel,
I’d urge you to keep your distance;
Even with satnav I’m struggling still,
Never more than fifty percent,
Certain I’ve set it up correctly,
And I don’t want to receive a rear dent,
Due to having changed lanes suddenly.
But fear not: these days I take the bus;
A longer journey, at little cost,
Cheaper than the train, and much less fuss,
Though, on occasion, I still get lost.
Take the other day, for example:
I went by bus to Dovercourt
To visit a mate from my old school,
And, for reasons unbeknown, I thought
I’d reached my destination, and hence
Vacated, upon which I saw
Landmarks that made no sense
In a place I’d never been before;
And I hadn’t a clue as to what
Route or direction I should take, this
Being an unfamiliar spot,
I didn’t know whether I’d missed
The stop or gotten off too soon.
To proceed or not to proceed, that
Was the question, on the morn (or noon?)
I got lost on the way to his flat.
“Excuse me, is this the right way
To Dovercourt, and the Bathside estate?”
But no one local was out that day
“Sorry, don’t live here can’t help you mate”,
They mostly said, apologetically,
All except one, who with kind intention
Said I’d get there eventually
If I walked in the opposite direction.
But lest this story too goes astray;
Long ramble short, I found the abode,
Though the timetable dictated my stay;
A bus wanker’s lot is a limited mode,
More inconvenient than a car;
But a self-imposed ban’s all for the best
And public transports safer by far,
Not knowing North, from South, East, or West.
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