Saturday, July 31, 2010
Big Yellow Taxi
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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