The Taxi I Called
never showed up.
I called again.
A voice informed me
I had already been picked up,
but they could send another
if I needed to go again.
I noticed a single lavender stiletto heel
on the floor of my room.
My suitcase already bulging
I heard the taxi horn.
Clutching the shoe,
I raced outside and down the street,
three blocks before he stopped.
The driver leaned out the window
to ask me directions,
not realizing it was me
he was trying to find,
chasing him, waving a lavender shoe.
We were almost to the airport
when, over the radio,
I heard my address being read.
The driver turned and said,
I will ignore him and take you instead.