When I drive cab <br />I am moved by strange whistles and wear a hat <br /> <br />When I drive cab <br />I am the hunter. My prey leaps out from where it <br />hid, beguiling me with gestures <br /> <br />When I drive cab <br />all may command me, yet I am in command of all who do <br /> <br />When I drive cab <br />I am guided by voices descending from the naked air <br /> <br />When I drive cab <br />A revelation of movement comes to me. They wake now. <br />Now they want to work or look around. Now they want <br />drunkenness and heavy food. Now they contrive to love. <br /> <br />When I drive cab <br />I bring the sailor home from the sea. In the back of <br />my car he fingers the pelt of his maiden <br /> <br />When I drive cab <br />I watch for stragglers in the urban order of things. <br /> <br />When I drive cab <br />I end the only lit and waitful things in miles of <br />darkened houses<br /><br />Lew Welch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/taxi-suite-excerpt-1-after-anacreon/
