Poem for Miss Ross
At the end of a long day
After I get home from driving my taxi
for 12 or 14 or 16 hours
I lay down on my bed
but it all
spins back on me:
every face in the rear view mirror
every street under construction
every near missed accident
every stranger's horror story
every time there were sobs in the back seat
every time I laughed
to make someone feel better
about being an asshole
every time I got to my pick up
and found no one there
every time I took a stupid route
or got stuck in traffic
where the silences are long
every time I looked at Miss Ross
as I drove her to her cancer treatment
white and tiny as an angel
with candy cigarette bones.
END
About the Creator
Mather Schneider
I was a cab driver in Tucson, Arizona for many years.
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