by Colin James

The cab smelled

of Gardenias.

The other passengers

seemingly preoccupied.

Crackling green

wrapping paper.

What are the chances

of a short visit?

The driver choreographed

his impersonations.

A sweater draped

over wide shoulders

in folds.

Below which he

was subtly misbehaving. 


Colin James has a chapbook of poems out from Writing Knights Press.

Return to Issue 18