�People And Taxis�

Fingers linger rotating around the brim of the glass
Silently suggesting an accident
Another world drives through at double speed-
“Hi sweetie, A dry white wine and a Soy Latte”
Why did I place myself here?
When I could have been free outside with the blue shirts
Instead of stuck inside with the well dressed barely alive

I bite on the edge of the bottle, something alcoholic
Their overlong explanation, so I mask an interest
Pull forward another convincing front
(Just like everyone does)
The real face- all selfish and bored
People and taxis continue to filter through
Moaning and laughing about absolutely nothing
I’d love to suddenly fire into the ceiling
Just to give them something serious and real to think about

And I’m the only one who spies a little house fly
Darting around and above
I hate him as he may be living in s**t
But at least he can get away whenever he wants to leave it

Money makes this place go to ground
Mobile phones break it down
Owned by everyone
I’ll be buried six feet underground before I have one strapped to my mind
I’m not wanting to be so easily found
By all these people and taxis.    



 

Reviews

[Jennifer Ryan]

Descriptive and lucid. A pragmatic telling of how the yuppie class can be so superficial. Good job.

[Steven Pottle]

I mean taxis as in the transport....and isn't it taxes? Sorry, I'm dyslexic so I have to make sure about spelling and meaning around a hundred times before I post something....thanks for the review though.

[AaronPhobia]

Great poem :D did you mean Taxis as in what people pay every month for income tax check? Well its spelled Taxs if thats what you mean :) Well Great Poem

-Aaron