The portly man drives
me around town in his taxi
he speaks of dreams
of fears
of his daughter...
of his mistress
of this new health care plan
of his burning, ithcy HEMORRHOIDS!!...
No kidding!
He smells of smoke
and I'm so SURE!
does dope.
He wears his pit-stained tight wife-beater with pride.
He looks like crap, but does he care?
Most people wouldn't dare to wear
such a trashy outfit with greasy hair.
Oh god, will this ever end?.... He's still talking
....and talking.......and TALKING!
This cab driver makes me
wanna end up WALKING!!
What's he saying now?
Hell, I have no idea anymore.
His voice has faded to the
horn-sound
of the teacher on
Charlie Brown
My stomach is starting to turn from
the mix of constant taxi-man gibberish mixed with
the blare of Rush on the radio and the
spicy, musty smell of upholstery marinated with
old tacos, sweat, vomit, and probably blood.
What did I do to deserve this?...
Wait!
The cab is pulling over...
What do you know!
This is my stop already!
I've never got here so fast...
That's cool, but
is it really worth the price
to put up with this gibber-jabbin
manic,
taxi-cab havin
FREAK!!!
...to get there just
a little faster
To shave just
a little more time
to get just
a little more done
so you can do even
MORE
the next day?
No comments:
Post a Comment