Taxi

My taxi driver sped through Shanghai, flashing his brights. One block of darkness, then sudden illumination. Memories were evoked of dark back wood roads in New England lit by slivers of lightning, decorated with raindrops and delicate whispers from the wind. Such a strange parallel, now in China reminiscing of my youth. A time not far from the present, but seemingly lived in another lifetime. I know I am alive. I felt for the first time what I have never felt before. We weaved through what felt like empty streets, only littered with people who would soon be washed away to their homes in the rain.  Dim lights from cars, red lights from street signs and green lights from numbers on busses, blended, and blurred together. An oil painting that will never be duplicated. My mind's eye trying not to blink. Each click of my driver's light switch congruent with my mind's thoughts. Trying to see clearly, but mist and smut cluttered my vision. Each glimpse of light blacked out by prolonged periods of darkness only to have extreme clarity, if not only for a second. Never stopping, never quitting, always reaching my destination, no matter what the price.