Tell him not to go
Tug at his coat sleeves
Cry out in plea
Won’t you?
He’s going now
All suited up in black
Sullen cabbie waits
In a gaudy hack
Cab fare is ready
Two minted coppers
On his very eyes
The flag went down
The taxi crept
In an unhurried pace
The radio droned a hymn
I heard him hum the tune
The hack sputtered
Bade goodbye to each block
Past known haunts and faces
Turning last into a gated arch
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