Tuesday, January 31, 2012

the cab ride

rain splattered against the cold window

my breath fogging up the glass as I said

my address and slumped against torn navy blue

leather, thick purse straps falling down, down

and it hit with a thud and she’d ask what do you

have in there, anyway? rocks? but I’d always

laugh it off, but now I wish I’d showed her what

I kept, my cosmetics, knock-off Coach wallet

and a journal with her faded picture skotch taped

to the first page, I wanted to throw it at her

see! you know I love you, best friend, but

that time is now long gone. Watching the meter

run, run with blood pumping through my veins

ragged gasps for air, sweaty brown locks sticking

to the back of my neck, tear streaked cheeks,

she said I was going to be a runner one day,

maybe even beat her time. Well, all I know

is that I did beat her time, but not

in the way she intended. The cab stopped. I went

to pay but he refused. It’s on me, he said, before

driving back the twenty miles to the city.

-Madeline Wahl

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