The Cab Thing

First drove a cab in NYC. 1972. Out of the Bronx. Worked Manhattan.
Would go to Brooklyn. Never any trouble. Only got "beat" once.
Three guys picked up on 2nd Avenue uptown go to Wayne, NJ.
Did not get $30 fare up front... they bailed in a mall lot and vanished.

Did have one accident. Guy playing chicken up the Major Deegan.
Passing courtesies blown away, he pulled out ahead at exit.
In front of Post Office on 138th, he stopped short at green light.
Rear-ended him. The explanations was interesting and accepted.

Best story was pick-up at after hours club near dawn.
52nd and 1st Avenue: the lights uptown timed at 30 mph.
Off we go, a wise guy and a bimbo... red light at 110th.
"Take it kid; this is my neighborhood." Don't recall otherwise.

Several years later took in Scorsese's Taxi Driver. Heavy.
Then meet myself a girl named Iris. An operator, for sure.
Wasn't fully apprised jargon then; she needed to be saved.
Double-crossed me; got over it; made rescue attempt.

Holy shit if that didn't set off a chain of events still reeling.
Thus and the need for current prescription impede driving.
Mentally and physically, I'm a safety hazard. All this plus.
Plus voices, plus dirty dig: "You'll end up driving a cab."

Such it is for students of philosophy. Students of Life.
Can't stand it anymore. Please Lord; clear my mind.
Something will come up. Meanwhile, Eric Hoffer advises.
And may the Good Lord have mercy upon us all.