Some Notes On The Old Taxi Driver Poem by RIC BASTASA

the taxi driver
was an old man
unshaven, wrinkles
abound, white hairs,
someone calls
that he fetches
him from house to
school, his
grandson he says,
while i kept my
silence
to listen to
the rain outside,
he is of use
and it makes him
happy he says
being needed.
he keeps on answering
calls
but i do not see
any danger at
all.
we both still have
that strong desire
to live some more
years.
that feeling that
we are needed.
yes, that makes
sense.