Stop
This cab doesn’t stop,
Windows. Square windows.
Looking out.
Driving past a bench with three people sitting on it.
Rushing through the city.
This cab doesn’t stop long enough for me to think.
Or blink.
No one else is allowed on.
It’s just me and the driver.
This cab doesn’t stop.
We stop anyway.
He needs to pick up a prescription.
He sits back in the driver’s seat.
He leans back, and pulls out a water bottle.
Then hands the pills to me.
This cab doesn’t stop- Doesn’t stop- usually.
We start driving again.
I don’t see his face the rest of the drive.
There’s a sign on the window.
This Cab Doesn’t Stop.
Except for me.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
