Poetry: Going by Taxi

I wear gloves to my elbows;  you wear herringbone trousers.
It starts to snow;  the streetlights haven’t switched on yet.
I lack ordinary patience;  where’s the towne crier?
You say correction;  I say retraction.
The citrus look exacting;  they make calm orange pyramids.
Let me buy alstroemeria;  you choose the beer.
Wood bundles whiten near the awning;  remember our fireplace?
Life takes things away from you;  the snow gives way to sleet.
You say umbrella;  I say imbroglio.
Tuesday’s best for sleuthing;  we pursue the stubborn missing.
When I’m needy, I’m rude;  keep an eye down the avenue.
We don’t want to let that taxi go by;  we don’t.
All this time yields no evidence;  all this time gives no clue.
I say angry;  you say ennui.
Let’s kiss when the meter starts;  ah, here come the lights.
I’ve forgotten the address;  you’ve a claim check in your pocket.
We stocked our coat closet with wood;  it was ten, eleven years ago.
Bugs crept out under the door;  carried far from earthy homes.
You say step on it;  I say no stop.

We don’t know the tune on the radio, and the street’s turned black
with snow.

Jeanne Marie Beaumont

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