Le Petit manteau, Edouard Vuillard.
A taxi with its light on goes
nowhere, everywhere, constantly
I pick you up on the corner
and have my way with you—
tick the meter tick—
apply fake tanner insert
fake teeth and eat once
nightly so my nightie
sticks to my stomach and hips
the way the hourglass is
neither top-heavy nor bottom-
heavy but nothing in the middle.
A taxi with its lights on can be
clean, smooth, safe. It can offer you
eggs in the morning
Lean across the table.
Of course I should
tear a pink slip chasing
after the man with no shirt and a
mouth hidden by hair, a
wrinkled cigarette in my coin purse,
communicating in flashes, flashes,
glints of eyes.