Revive the Archive: Mario F. Halkyer’s “Damn You Mapquest”

Revive the Archive is a weekly series that showcases student works from The York Review’s extensive archive. These student works will vary each week of the series, ranging from pieces of writing to pieces of artwork.

For many of those in their early twenties, 2008 may not seem like the distant past. That being said, in less than four months, it will be 2018, and an entire decade will have passed since the beginning of that year. Mario F. Halkyer’s comedic poem, “Damn You Mapquest,” emphasizes the 10-year time difference through its mention of printed directions, which have largely been replaced with smartphone GPS apps, such as Google Maps. When considering technology’s major impact on map-based directions, one might question what else will soon be outdated…

[Image Description: Through glass speckled with raindrops, an urban street with cars paused at a red light is somewhat visible. Blurry circles of red light pop out from the otherwise gray, rainy landscape.]

“Damn You MapQuest”
— Elegy for my Honda

Mario F. Halkyer (2008)

Oh my sweet, sweet Honda!
So innocent, white and pure!
I loved sitting inside you
just to hear your four cylinders purr.

You were my first, my last, my favorite.
Smooth and gentle in every way.
I’d Armor All and clean you
almost every single day.

I may have had more years,
but in miles you had me beat.
Together we worked as one
giving sweet rides in your back seat.

Alas, when we ventured north,
on that rainy, cloudy day
who knew that a moment’s mistake
would forever take you away.

Glancing at the directions
to see what turn to take,
I didn’t see the red Volvo
or the right it was trying to make.

Your bumper broke, the headlights smashed,
and your radiator cracked.
Then when my mom tried to drive you home,
the hood flew up and the windshield got smacked.

I never did see you again
after that cruel turn of fate.
I wish I had said goodbye,
because now, you’re just a paper weight.