Taxi !

The smell of the fresh baguettes
the sight of ladies with their red berets
scarfs tied around their neck
in a quest to blend in,
i followed in the fashion trend
Lines of cabs that did not look like cabs
Carried away by my surrounding
Oops!! look at the time
then i flagged down one
then the driver began to dishe out questions after questions
as i ate my finely baked croissant

-Que fairs ( what do you do?)
-quel âge as-tu ( how old are you?)
-pourquoi avez-vous pas un petit ami (why aren’t you dating)

Trying to understand the words as fast as i could,
i thought to myself,
“you are really open and straightforward to ask me all this
no much traffic
speaking like someone who was obviously a foreigner,
i couldn’t respond much
but with the little i knew, i answered
i made myself clear
this did not stop the man from delving into series of advice
it felt like a therapist session
well a french therapist.
after the little chat in the twenty or so minutes ride
he asked if i’d like to go to the movies
or call me up some time
No. No. pas pour les entreprises (no no , not for business) , he said

Taxi! ceci est mon arrêt
(this is my stop)
french embraced my tongue


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