Reid@YWP

BONG. BONG. BONG. Three o'clock and all's well, I thought, peering out the front windshield of taxi 38, the black-and-yellow 2018 Toyota I've been carting New Yorkers around in every day for five years. Everybody knows me.

On the porch, with grooves of woven twine 
embedded into the underbelly of my thighs, 
I sit and listen intently for you. My ears perked, 
with unruly fire-streaked hair tucked behind them, 

With an ending, 

Comes a new beginning. 

A constant cycle of rebirth, 

an eclipse of emotions. 

Have you heard of the girl who went wild?

She saw the moon and began to run:

Just to Jump the stream 

Then the mountain 

And Into the stars.