There use to be a little newspaper called the Fourth Street Review. It died. They had this writing contest. The people who ran the paper were my friends. I got 4th place. No money but I got a free pizza at Buffalo Alice. My girlfriend and I ate the pizza. It was a good pizza. This is the poem in a slightly altered version.
The yellow car was not a taxi. It was only a yellow car. Maybe it use to be a taxi. Maybe it will be a taxi. It is a big car. It is a 1984 Chevrolet Caprice Classic. It has four doors and a white plastic rosary hanging from the rearview mirror. It is not afraid of sport utility vehicles. It is not afraid of pickup trucks. It likes to sing loudly to other cars and trucks. It is a happy car. It likes to go slow when luxery cars are behind it. It likes to eat a lot of gasoline. It likes to fart and belch in the morning. The car is not really yellow, but it is thinking it would like to be.It has the color of champagne.
It is happy with this color. It is only thinking of this change in color. You get a certain age, and maybe you want to change a little bit. This can hurt no one. Inside, it is the same. Very deep inside, it is the same. This change on the outside can hurt no one. But the yellow must be taxicab yellow. You want to know why? This yellow is very strong. It can take a lot of punishment. And in the right light, it is invisible to police cars. The rosary is not all white. It is red and white. These are strong colors, too.