Taxi Driver
Taxi driver,
You don't know who you do it for
Every day, in and out
The eloping couple,
The rushing artist,
The drunken businessmen,
Strangers who might've once been friends in a past life,
Now bound by the bustling busyness of our modern-day
To take a few deep breaths in the shabby backseat of your taxi
To think of their failing marriage
Or their dinner plans for the night
And you, navigating your amber-coloured agent
Through the city
The suburbs
The almost country-side
The city, again
To take them to their harbour
Is there something worthwhile in that mundane monotony?
I wonder.
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