The engine sputters like a dying confession, Headlights carving through the bruised dawn. He grips the wheel with knuckles stained yellow, A grin stretched too wide, teeth flickering in the glow— Half devil, half cabbie, burning rubber to nowhere. Beside him, his passenger cackles like broken glass, Face lit by the dashboard inferno, Eyes wide and reckless, the last sparks of a wildfire That never knew when to quit. The windshield bleeds streaks of neon and grime, A canvas of dirty rain and cheap promises. Outside, the streets are ghosts, Buildings leaning heavy under the weight of secrets They’ll never tell. The meter ticks louder than their laughter, Counting miles they’ll never reclaim, Spitting out time they’ve long since lost. And somewhere behind them, The city watches like a disappointed father— Silent, distant, waiting for them to run out of road.