Cab Ride by Cella

(a daydream, maybe)

Dearest Clayton is in concert tomorrow.

I'm two blocks before my hotel.

Beneath the darkness of downtown St. Louis,

the ride was nearly through.

Mindlessly, I look at buildings and the few cars passing by.

The light ahead is red and we slow.

.

To my surprise, a white Lincoln limo enters my sight.

Darkened windows are all my eyes see,

but my mind sees through the blackness,

to a spiky-haired silhouette.

He can feel something.

His head turns to see a woman softly staring.

How can she see me, he wonders.

On a different level, he knows it's not her eyes,

its her heart.

We move again.

My gaze never wavers.

I hope against hope a window would roll down

or a bright light inside would flash.

My eyes want to confirm what my heart feels, but no.

The cab slowly turns left, but I still follow.

It goes another block, turns right, then is gone.

It wasn't him, I'm pretty sure.

But it's always nice to conjure.

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~Posted 4.2.2004~

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Thanks,

-Cella

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