Adieu dans Paris-Orly

Your taxi-cab pushing through traffic,
through lights and horns overflowing
like a river in flood;
feverish cars, clocks running counter,
all odds stacked against you,

you still make to Paris Orly
barely in time to light your interior fire
with the bitter taste of a last cup of coffee
that goes down burning like a bonfire on a field of dreams.

Last call, calling all fliers,
the good-byes and the kisses, overwhelmed
lips turning around,
once more, a last time,
before becoming airlifted.
(Thomas-John Parr)