TAXI DRIVE ON A SUNNY SATURDAY
The reflection of the sun in the glass of
a driver’s side window of a car stopped
for a red light agitates and causes ache
in eyes that try to keep the brilliant
whiteness on the periphery as they
look beyond to admire the archi-
tecture of the buildings that stand like canyon
walls towering above a trickling stream of traffic.
The sunlight shatters every instant
and embeds its shards to depths
that only light-speed momentum can plumb,
into the naked atmosphere, dense here
at gravity’s border, into the rock
and the flesh forced up against it.
The static way the pedestrians walking
sidewalks and waiting to cross streets
seem, seen through the moving taxi’s open
window makes the stillness of construction
dumpsters on a Saturday when the workers all have off
appear so enigmatically somnolent,
dreaming dreams that behave like tiny tingling
leaves in light breeze, dashed green by the powerful sun;
how their inconceivable logic, that of city traffic
stopping, moving, going, driving
at speeds from zero all the way to sixty,
speeding up and slowing down, headed in varied direc-
tions, sluiced by the gridded rationality of the road
astounds one to try comprehending, like the dreams
our lovers have about us behind their fluttering eyelids.
Find out more about Arthur and his writing in his blog >>>
http://arthurleocolemaniv.com/
