Taxis

There never was a schedule printed

to know when those taxis would appear,

they just came and went like the days,

waiting on the corner until they arrived

and catch a ride unto a place

beyond this cold pavement

some haven for my life,

where I didn’t miss out

on the happiness never found

wandering this cement as a nomad

desperate for some home I didn’t have

filled with love I couldn’t locate.

 

I knew they never came

without having to pay a faire,

anything was better than living without hope.

 

Each time I saw one headed my way,

suddenly fear would grab my throat,

what if they broke down?

Or perhaps some accident

would end my trip

before I reached that destination

way beyond this misery.

 

Just kept my hands by my side,

convinced I’d find courage

by the time the next one showed up.

 

Sundown came and I watched the last cab pass by,

telling myself tomorrow would be different,

but deep down I realized

it was a tale, some myth to ease my guilt,

because like so many others

that talked about escaping,

was just so much easier to discuss

than actually pay the cost of a trip.

 

The most experienced eyes

revealed their truths

as we stood and ignore those chariots

we pretended to want to ride,

long before we started play acting

our hearts had stopped

expecting to go anywhere.