The cab moved quietly
Beneath the street lamps
Pleather seats: torn, faded
There we sat, silent- content.
The driver, a portly man, hacked
Struggling, his breathing deepened
Panting, gasping to regain regularity
Quickly, his breath filled the
Confined, litter-shrouded,
Van with the stench of
Cheap cigar smoke

We arrived at her home
The driver approached slowly
Carefully avoiding the icy snow
Banked earlier by the cities plows
Sliding the van door open I step out
Still holding her hand, the night air
Enters my lungs, sobering me
Just for that brief instant

Hastily, she leans in
Without hesitation, I meet her
Ambitious advance, reciprocating
The kiss is brief; I’m no longer cold
Her lips are warm and soft against mine
Retreating, she smiles. I gently brush her hair
Behind her ear unveiling a dark brown eye
My glazed, drunk, stare meet hers
Her grin, now beginning to fade
She looks down in confusion

I sense the cab driver behind me
Growing impatient he lights a cigar
Before turning away she whispers night
Her hand lets go of mine; our fingers part
Complacent, tomorrow she will return to him
Revisiting that feigned, simulated, infatuation
The kind they falsely advertised as ‘love’
Standing alone, I’m cold once more
Keying in, she doesn’t look back

Reaching into my pocket
Scrounging for what cash is left
To the cab, I surrender my last five dollars
This pays just enough to get me where I stand
Dissatisfied with his tip, the driver departs cursing
Unsure what to make of the evening, I begin my walk
Now, not so sobering, the night air dries my throat
The chilled breeze that once blushed her cheeks
Now stings my nose, ears, and finger tips
Alone, I continue west- home
Cold, I have miles ahead
Spirit torn in twain
I walk them.