you ask the cab driver
going eighty miles an hour
down broadway how
many people has he killed today.
he stops eating his lamb
kabob, and laughs,
spitting green onions
and sour cream
onto his windshield.
never, he says, I've never
killed anyone in my cab
before. he wipes his mouth
with his long sleeved
pajama top and goes back
to eating. no, you say.
not passengers, but pedestrians,
oh, he says, that's
different. he takes a sip
of his goat milk from
a thermos and starts
counting in farsi
with his fingers.
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