Taxi-man, oh taxi-man
With swift green and gold convayance.
You are the gift of God's burning light upon this world,
To rescue me from some frozen steppe.
Not the inffinite plains of the Huns,
But the cold concrete of a five to nine after work.
Shivering with fever and with cold
and the wind.
You pluck me from the modest half way point,
filled with impulse-buy candies and condoms,
and a quizzical Sri Lankan wondering at my pacing/passing.
And you, like Pegasus, whisk me, warm.
Across the street and cross the roads
and you deliver me safe home,
As I gather my wits, or at least my shit.
I wish you could burst into my home,
like so many unwanted neighbors.
crash through my doors and lay me safe upon my bed.
Where beauteous angels would attend me.
Undressing me, not for the satisfaction of my lions,
But for sleep, for my body seeks respite.
Or ever longing death.
So thank you,
Taxi-man, oh taxi man
for saving me
from the slow cold March night,
and a slow cold night marc