In China, In a Taxi Cab

​A flimsy stutter creates the scene for us, 

It has helped erupt, or at the very least 

Make erect, a volcano of social domination

In my much esteemed opponent, 

The taxi driver. 

What I spit out has been thrown

Amongst the world of words many times, 

But only within the safety my 

Oft-forgiving, multi-lingual girlfriend

Offers me. The safety of her loins, 

Her legs, her soft and teasing laughter

The kind that would squeeze my 

buttocks and make me yelp.

So, when I hear him laugh I balk, 

And try to say the word once again, 

Fired by my own eruption of petty anger, 

Brewed underground in secret caverns, 

Infernous and inevitably dangerous.

At any given moment should the opportunity arrive, 

A whole arsenal of aggressive tones

Becomes exposed to the danger of ignition, 

And that wild bird inside my chest is unfettered,

Suddenly maternal, in flight for the sake of my pride. 

Calm Bryan, calm. 

I know to say these words by now, 

And imagining myself the modest monk, 

I slump back into my seat, 

Turn wearily to look Emily and say, 

Can you talk to him please?


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