THE TAXI CAB MAN

The poet asks how much
as his Dutch friend
puts his hand
on the meter
does not dare
to talk about money
at Christmas time
they are both tired
and stood up tonight
by their double dates
two bouquets of roses
lie on the front seat,
the poet needs to
study French
in the library
on the back bench
waiting for his exam,
but he will not take
the cab driver away
from his grave yard shift
lasting a life time.