Loves Taxicab Blues Last Day of Spring or Summer in the City
Drunk off the coolness of night
the sweat staggers down my forehead
and into the corner of my baby green mirrors.
I try to see past the haze
razing or slow pillaging or shimmering
or evaporating off the asphalt.
I stare at it posturing. Pretending
I know how to read tea leaves or tarot or any situation really.
i’m trying to find reason. No. I’m not trying to find anything.
Today. Even the shade under the trees
in Gratz Park are mirages of a better time.
Making me remember back when.
When we had seasons here.
A memory. One that stings
like a bee. Or embarrasment. Or like sweat
when it finds its way into a fresh cut on your knuckle
or into your eyes.
When all you trying to do is see.
11 thoughts on "Loves Taxicab Blues Last Day of Spring or Summer in the City"
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I love the line “mirages of a better time.”
“I stare at it posturing. Pretending
I know how to read tea leaves or tarot or any situation really.” This line packs a punch!
good you can remember how it felt before the world started going to pot
I love how you opened this poem–those first 2 lines really pulled me in.
I love the way you chose to end this poem: “When all you trying to do is see.”
Wonderful title! There is such a conversational tone to this poem as well as the beautiful uncertainty. Speak Gratz Park, and I picture those images you post!
Outstanding.
No better way to spend a life than “When all you trying to do is see”
Great opening line, great ending.
circular sting. loves taxicab blues gonna need its own book. 💙💙
Title grabbed me!
Like how you landed the poem;
A memory. One that stings
like a bee. Or embarrasment. Or like sweat
when it finds its way into a fresh cut on your knuckle
or into your eyes.
When all you trying to do is see.