The Taxi as told by Patriciann Heron of SL (the /me denotes an action taken by the story teller)

That jaunty jalopy, how it zips! How it goes!
In a blur it confers its good fares to their goals.
Like bees in a beehive, they buzz through the streets!
These yellow-clad fellows, on their daily beats.
/me smirks with a little grin to one side, knowing what is to come.

In wintery slush piles, they slide and they skid,
Like run-amok bumper cars on the street grid.
Picking up passengers with nary a word,
And dropping them off again, shaken, not stirred.
/me looks up through her eyelashes, sapphire eyes sharing a look with the audience.

But sometimes at night, these checkered chauffeurs,
Change their agendas- a strange thing occurs.
Not plowing through snowpiles and picking up sheeple,
They pick up the snowpiles and plow through the people!
/me furrows her eyebrows, then becomes animated, discussing the antics of the vehicles.

The sidewalks are filled, and all should beware,
An extra ten points for that wheelchair!
The jaywalkers spray with a fine crimson mist,
What a fine pastime, as their bumpers are kissed!
/me recites with delight!

The street cops, the vendors, the road repair crew,
That smack on the ass was long overdue!
The blue hairs, the cyclists, the three-piece-suit lawyers,
They rush through them all, these avenging destroyers.
/me shakes her head at those evil lawyers.

Careening about wildly, sliding into their foes,
Spinning and winning their bid to oppose.
The running and screaming, as onward they sweep,
Collecting their payback- Honk! Honk! Beep! Beep!
/me pretends to steer a car, veering into hapless victims with a crap eating grin on her face.

Then sure as it started, they all start to pause,
The taxis return to their regular jobs.
So if you are looking for a ride down the street,
'Ware the night taxis, who are looking for meat!
/me smiles and bows.