The Taxi
When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?
By Amy Lowell
It’s so wonderful when things turn out exactly the way you want to turn out. Like speaking to a new friend, the first thing you do in the morning; and you haven’t even brushed your teeth. Like sharing your favourite ice cream with the roadside puppy and smiling at the strangers who see this spectacle, a bit amused.
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?
By Amy Lowell
It’s so wonderful when things turn out exactly the way you want to turn out. Like speaking to a new friend, the first thing you do in the morning; and you haven’t even brushed your teeth. Like sharing your favourite ice cream with the roadside puppy and smiling at the strangers who see this spectacle, a bit amused.
