Cab Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I heaved my arms,

As if reaching the moon, saying

“Cab.”

I opened the door,

Slammed it against the surface

It clicked,

Surely, locked inside

“Where to? ”

“Madison.”

“That’s far as hell, stranger.”

“Anywhere. Farther would be awesome.”

I am troubled,

I slept in the cab,

With no reason to drab

My wounds with memories, salt

But I still do

To feel the twinges,

Drawn closer

To images past the sidewalks.

“You have a wife waiting for you? ”

Inquisitive a cab driver should not be

“No.” Memories are

During the past years

Strewn with satin

Porcelain, silk

Flannel and the withstanding

Redwood for foundations

The cab driver took a drag,

Shook his head

Emphasized his eyes

Past the rear view mirror

Like waterbeds

I am back to bedlam.

Past the slopes

Headed towards Madison

Fog lamps clearing the horizon

The road goes steep,

I noticed the deep pits calling me

At the front passenger seat, I awoke

With the rumbling of thunder

I saw dead trees

Lifeless branches

On the streets

While the cab was traversing

The steep roads,

I stole the steering wheel

Directed us through the steel

Barricades,

Finally

Someone to share half of my pain

Come with me

Down to the cliffs, cab driver

“Oh my god.” He shouted,

I have waited

So long for this

Better than a coma,

Death speaks no words.

We fell sharply,

Full-speed, half-blind

Towards the cliffs,

Anticipating death,

A great perhaps,

No memory

No scorn.

Watching the day you were born,

In reverse.