-Mellen Thomas Benedict-
Indian summer in Manhattan,
Sunset, long shadows and jazz on the street,
Everyone was mellow.
Walking and singing my way uptown,
I was playing follow the leader with my shadow
as it stretched out ahead of me.
It seemed to know where it was going.
Funny thing, I thought,
My shadow is leading the way
and will arrive wherever I’m going before me.
But where am I going?
Just then a wreck of a cab pulled up
with a rastaman from outerspace in the drivers seat.
Purple incense burning on the dashboard altar
and Bob Marley wailing from a boom box
He took one look at me
jumped out, waved me over
and quickly opened the rear door.
I knew this was a sign and I knew what to do.
So I climbed in.
Welcome aboard, Holy stranger
I be a righteous man, you know
I’m legally blind, too,
So easy to See,
said the blind Jamaican cab driver.
Then my fate is in your good hands,
now can you take me to the
Cafe at the End of the World,
God help us then,
I know just the place, he laughed,
as he stepped on the gas
we cruised into the neon night of the city.