DON’T NEVER GIVE UP

by Mather Schneider

I’ve already pawned the first half of this spring day
and now I’m driving my cab
slowly down Fourth Avenue
looking for a live one.
When I stop at a red light
a grime-rubbed bum waves
and weaves toward me.
I’m ready to bolt until he flashes
an inch thick wad of cash.
I unlock the door and he gets in.
“How ya doing?” I say.
“Fresh as the morning mail,” he says.
He smells like old leaves a bobcat pissed on.
“Where to?” I say.
“Motel Row,” he says, “any good
whores left over there?”
“I don’t know about good,” I say.
“I’ve got to get my nuts out of hock,” he says.
“Yes sir,” I say.
“Stop at a liquor store will ya?” he says.
He gets his bottle
and we pull into the Quail Inn,
twenty six bucks a night.
He pays the twelve dollar fare
and then gives me a twenty dollar tip.
I can’t believe it.
“Don’t never give up,” he says.
Then he gets out and staggers
toward a skin-and-bones woman
leaning outside room two,
her smile pure goldin the virgin sun.