Sunday, July 17, 2011


Oppressive heat, high humidity, sweat soaks

my shirt, a triangle of perspiration forms in front.

July makes us call a cab. The doorman hears our

destination and says, Get the chili cheese fries,

milkshakes are awesome, half smokes, real good.

The cab driver is full of suggestions too, a tour guide

on our way to U Street he points out the party zone,

a Presidential mural, Adams Morgan’s best place to

have dinner, but he’s the most amused by a building

with a two story painted cartoon, a red headed lady.

He grows impatient with a construction crew waving

an orange flag to tell him to go, but the light is red.

He tells us he didn’t sleep much last night and when

another cab cuts him off, he mouths- Don’t make me

get out, I will fight- especially if you flip me the bird.

He notices a fine looking woman, a short linen dress,

a general lack of clothing, confesses he likes winter boots

but ladies never look better in this city than in the summer.

He says we’re brave for wanting to eat at Ben’s Chili Bowl,

admitting he’s gastronomically challenged now at his age.

1 comment:

mark said...

I like the way you weave snippets into a cohesive whole. The flow, the cadences and images combine for a good poem, a nice piece of writing.