By Morgan Haynes   Twilight@Valley.Net
Date: 22 April 1998

Taxi

In the heat of the weather I swayed to the music of the taxi driver’s choice. 
Stuck in traffic on a summer day is not high on my list of things to do, but 
I let it slide. A sweaty man next to us in the line towards freedom was on his 
knees. Over heating car by his side he had collapsed into a soggy greasy mess 
of curly black hair, and I wished for seconds that I could wipe my forehead in 
the curls and let the smell of his shampoo suck me like ether. He glanced up, I 
glanced up, and then he smiled at me as I stopped swaying and stopped breathing
and stopped living. I smiled back sending electric shock to my heart; I was 
alive again. The cars were moving and I used my mind to make them stop. His 
lips sang to the lyrics of my music and I opened the door to the taxi driver’s 
honks and hollers. He was quiet when he saw my wallet on the seat and I kissed 
that man by his car in front of all the innocent drivers. We giggled like 
summer time children and waved goodbye to my departing taxi.