The snow on the ground crunched loudly under my big leather boots. The street was strangely deserted at three in the morning. I walked to the corner of 96th Street and Central Park West. I raised my arm in the air hoping to catch a taxi. I yell, “Taxi!” and the sound of my voice is almost deafening. All the cabs whizzed by. They disregard poor little me standing in twenty degree weather. One cab actually stopped and after ten seconds, quickly sped off. But what do you expect, when they see my face and the color of my skin?
Image courtesy of Jeff Rowland, "Big Yellow Taxi," Castle Galleries.
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A wonderful drabble tastefully writte, loved the read.
ReplyDeleteYvonne.
Yikes - I'm thrown by the ending. I hope things like that don't actually happen.
ReplyDelete@ Yvonne- thank you. I stopped by your blog and loved your poem.
ReplyDelete@ Jemi- Unfortunately, discrimination is all too common in the city, especially at night. Hopefully, with time, things will change.
That's a cool pic. I have a tough time picking up a taxi when I wear my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle outfit.
ReplyDeleteThanks for joining Just the Cheese. Drop me a comment sometime.
@Powdered Toast Man- Sorry, that cabs won't pick you up when your in your favorite gear. My favorite turtle was Michaelangelo. :D
ReplyDeleteI most certainly will drop by.
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ReplyDelete