Gerry Jacobson
The Taxi Slows Down
on the Tasman Bridge. We’re hurrying towards Hobart Airport but one lane is blocked off, then two lanes. Cloud hangs low on Kunanyi (Mt Wellington). We crawl past a collection of police and fire brigade vehicles. I can just see a long-haired young woman hanging on to the other side of the parapet. Someone in plain clothes is talking to her from a few metres away. The taxi driver, an Indian gentleman, puts his hand on me, tells how he once talked someone out of it.
spots of rain
on the windscreen …
on a white sweater
About the Author
Gerry Jacobson lives in Canberra, Australia, and can be found writing tanka in its cafés. He was a geologist in a past life and now celebrates reincarnation as a dancer.