taxi thoughts

Black contained wealth
glides by, as taxi windows
reflect passing streetscapes
and pavement treaders.

Sun like syrup,
pours into the cracks between buildings.
A break in a passing cloud
illuminates like theatre spotlight,
a ramshackle man,
a hand to mouth drunkard.

He stops and lets sun warm his cheek,
this piercing heat
like the thousand cheek slaps
from women in bars
less drunk than he
and feels nothing but the sensation.

Yet trussed up suit,
stuck in traffic
in stuffy cab
see's only the sun
beating down
and is envious for a moment
of the freedom that comes
from having nothing left to lose.