the cab driver comes,
he waits, he leans on
his horn, but gently,
there may be a tip
involved at some point,
so it's short, but
makes the point, we
hurry and we wave as
we come down the stone
steps dressed for dinner
in white on this warm miami
christmas eve. he
weaves his way to the
hotel where we are
to eat, and he tells
us the same story that he
has told a thousand times,
who lives where, al capone
lived there, he looks
into the mirror for our
eyes, to see if we
believe him, but it
doesn't matter.