In my taxi I am in the story of my city.
The people enter into the shared space,
anonymous, safe, functional, meeting an immediate need.
Hospitals for the pregnant, the dying, the visiting,
the accidental, the doctors, nurses and managers.
Members of Parliament, members of forces, police,
ambulance and fire, social workers, probation workers.
Scientists, students of every discipline, musicians,
mothers and their children, children without parents
going to their carers.
Corporate workers, hidden shirkers,
office door and factory floor.
Directors, consultants, artisans and cleaners
Criminals, prostitutes, weddings and funerals
Vicars and nickers,
Faithful of every creed and every hue
Yahoo …. Google and Microsoft,
Purveyors of phones that serve
Breakdowns of cars and of people,
Casinos, restaurants, parlours and bars,
Lap dancers and trainee tap dancers ….
Artists and poets
Mystics and stoics
Drinkers, past thinkers,
with potions of nightmare
dream shrinkers ….
Canaries …. deep down
The mineshaft of life.
Everyone gets into a taxi sometime.
My job is to listen, to kiss our brief time
With the lips of our common presence ….
Rhyming Him, them and me
and my heart
As all three ….
Then there’s the bankers, the swankers
The shoppers that hanker after every
Offer and proffer any excuse to pile up the debt
And the rush of the dash to run from the thought of the end
Perfectly and precisely placed down to the atom
Inner and outer, outer and inner
The dog to the vet
The God that is met
In every day about a business
The business of Love ….
That fits me as well as
A hand in a glove ….
(My apologies to Neil Diamond)