my fare was Time, he stepped in at the last stop,
to get in from the rain. he didn't want to go far,
just down the block, maybe Main and Elm Street.

but he keeps looking around, the hood in his face,
it's a wonder he can see anything in that get-up.
hope he can pay his tab, hope he's got pockets.

his bony finger looks skinny as a needlepoint
and just as sharp as he pokes me with directions.
seems he want's to go downtown, i say, he's there.

he gives me a shoulder shrug, Time confused, looks
around more like he smells something he can't locate
and then orders me on, another older downtown, he says.

07/23/2008

Posted on 07/23/2008
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