BRAIN BITE
I took a train to Chicago
and it never came back.
I'm still stranded at this
God-damned street station.
People pass by - luggage
and carriages, carts on wheels,
the whole bit : no one talks,
or stops even to nod. Green
taxi cabs? I thought that was
only Philly, where the gypsy
cabs rule. A guy on the train,
who works for some big bank,
told me they tell their office
women to never hail a green
gypsy cab. Unlicensed and
running, some girls have
never returned from a ride.
The cabs, not the girls. Right?
The cabs, not the girls. Right?
I guess they have Uber and
Lyft now, sounding something
like a bra commercial.
-
But, as it goes, who's to know the
truth about these things. Probably
forty percent BS, like most anything
else. Information that can fit on a
disc, I never trust.
-
Me? I get over things, eventually.
Even the weird and stupid stories I
keep hearing: The dog that raises
ducks; the farmyard filled with
pygmy horses: the house down
the road, with the ghost that shows
up on mirrors? What gives? Brain
bite? Something too heady,
even for me?
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