I stepped down from the curb
which seemed disconnected
with the pavement.
Forgotten, as though the shrubs which filled
the cracks between them both,
were more of an interest.

The wetly lit pavement held a disfigured
image of the vehicle dominating it,
Begging for it to realize the impact of its weight,
But praying it would never leave.

The hum of the engine provided a haven of warm
to the air it was polluting,
As though it was reaching out,
In hope for the particles to accept his offer.

Petroleum pumped in,
burdened the taxi with heavy metal sighs,
Knowing the liquid that burned the network running through him,
Was the same liquid that kept him alive.

Exhaust fumes from the coal shrouded vehicle,
projected into the atmosphere,
Carrying all the goodbyes I'd endured,
Consuming what I felt left within me.

I know I love you, but I can no longer remember why.

The handle approached my hand.
Mould which once grew upon it in a state of deterioration,
Unsettled by the presence of my hand.

Yet there it remained,
a green dewey dust.
Pressed into the depressions of my fingertips,
Growing dimmer each time my hand touched,
a part of the world I was not yet familiar with.