These vinyl seats are cracked and gray,
I think that they were green one day,
and what the heck did he just say?
I think it was in Turkish.
The taxi driver just flipped off
a bus driver at First and Gough.
His cigarette, it makes me cough--
he really is quite jerkish.
We're weaving, cutting, to and fro,
okay, this driver, he's a pro
but still I think I just might blow--
my stomach's feeling queasy.
I wonder if those coffee stains
are really someone's splattered brains
(what someone gets if he complains)
and why's the seat all greasy?
Was that a red light we went through?
A bump--I think I lost a shoe--
I guess I'll kiss my butt adieu
you think he'll let me drive?
I put my head bewteen my knees
(I think the seat is filled with fleas)
and say a prayer that ends with please
and hope that we arrive.
I think that I can take no more
and throw myself down to the floor
I think of jumping out the door--
is that somebody's thong?
There's underwear beneath his seat!
It says it's size "ladies petite"...
I blush at thoughts quite indiscreet.
To whom does it belong?
His tires screech, he honks his horn,
I think that we just went airborne!
I wonder if my folks will mourn.
I'm getting good at prayer.
He says to me, "Your ride's complete
and do you want me give receipt?"
I must be ghost-white like a sheet.
At last, I sigh, we're there.
One of my writing goals for 2008 is to write at least one light verse or poem every week in addition to my haiku wednesday and fiction friday posts. I will try to do this on Mondays.
February 25, 2008