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Poem	When I drive cab I am moved by strange whistles and wear a hat When I drive cab I am the hunter. My prey leaps out from where it hid, beguiling me with gestures When I drive cab all may command me, yet I am in command of all who do When I drive cab I am guided by voices descending from the naked air When I drive cab A revelation of movement comes to me. They wake now. Now they want to work or look around. Now they want drunkenness and heavy food. Now they contrive to love. When I drive cab I bring the sailor home from the sea. In the back of my car he fingers the pelt of his maiden When I drive cab I watch for stragglers in the urban order of things. When I drive cab I end the only lit and waitful things in miles of darkened houses
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