the yellow taxi ride

it was

a different kind of car,

the yellow taxi.

so unlike your father's car,

this one

had leather seats,

and a clean smell.

it seemed sturdy,

strong

enough to endure the ride

of many

passengers

throughout the years.

the glass

window

between you and

the driver

was interesting,

his little screen adding

up the cost

of each new mile.

polite to the point

of making

small talk, even to a child.

opening the door

and popping the trunk

to hand

you your overnight

bag

with a tip of his hat

and smile.