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.