Another insertion
This time a cab from Newark
I can’t see a badge but the accent is African
The sky could be any season
The air, any industry, sweat and petrol
I bounce in the back
Of this yellow Ford
Generic black interior
Without breakfast or sleep having
lost much more than three hours
Cause certainly my dinner
in the Sierra foothills
was half a day ago
And now sliding on vinyl
I recognize NewYork approaching me
First the tool booth cutie
Do-rag, yellow safety vest, mirror aviators
Big lips do a little kiss/sniff/purse move
As we pull away and she
prepares For the next encounter
And the cabbie’s sad dixie cup rattles
with pens and straw
As my phone charger cord snakes back
from his lighter plug
Juicing back to connected life
For one more day
And we then dip
Holland Tunnel US 1 & 9-Truck
Through the alien wonders of Jersey City
Why humans spend so much to crowd
Is now somewhat beyond me
Cab 91 (dispatched by Patricia Canty)
Bears me east into MnHaddn
His garmin promising an arrival time
Odds averaged against the crowd
Every passenger a poem, a progress
We <3 ny