taxi

The truth goes down like communion wine.

If I keep walking these streets, they’ll lead me right back to your door.

It’s bitter, and I can still taste what remains.

I always want to see your face. 

and it's a strong scent, undeniably--

yet I still feel like I have a chance.

My own warnings fall on deaf ears.

The sight of you makes me feel closer to God.

King David conquered Jerusalem when Jonathan died;

what will I do?

I don’t want to see your face.

It’s hard to flag down a taxi in the city,

but I can’t imagine waiting here for you any longer.

They don’t stop for me because they know I don’t know where I’m going.

If only I could "drink to forget”--

instead, the potent shots of want work their way through my bloodstream.

It’s a poison that tastes so sweet.

The back of the taxi is suffocating.

I only tell the driver where to go, but he hears everything else I’ve been trying not to say.

“Saby, tahtaj alssalat. Allahu akbar.”

I’ll let the fare run higher and higher as I run away faster and faster.

A taxi cab weaves through busy streets.