Green empty bottles strewn,
Girdled to apoplexy,
With forked instruments hewn.
Taxi! Taxi! Taxi! Taxi!

He stood beside the green chair.
Leaned, fumbling his hands.
Belted to unawares.
Angels raise their wands.

All in one undulating row,
Thousand, thousand, thousand lamps.
Midnight burning flames flow,
And shrouded mystery clamps.

She will not cry, he will not shout.
They watch and lie on the ground.
I am stiff, it is the gout;
Voices drown as cry the hounds.

Several faces in the street
Disappear into the smog.
At crossroads the traffic meets;
The lonely barking of the dogs.

Albert with Alexander.
Anthony with Amy.
Others flutter and meander.
We call, Taxi! Taxi! Taxi!

Anand stood beside the door,
Then pulled down the shutter.
Forgive me, sir, there is no whore.
Just milk, bread and butter.

We sing in diminuendo,
And raise our heads high.
They whistle in crescendo,
And raise their heads high.

They live in a promised land
With a promised apology.
We live in a promised land
And cry, Taxi! Taxi! Taxi!

- Sushil Soni