Back on the Streets

Well, here I am again. Sitting and stands and picking up fares. The job remains essentially unchanged. Slackers with children. Slackers with illegitimate children.
Push the button, eject the unruly. Two-ninety to kick the meter on. Twenty-five cents a block.

It doesn't feel the same. Maybe I've grown callused to the passengers. I honestly don't care for them. Apathy rather than amusement. Not a grand state of affairs. Not a bad one either. Maybe I've matured in this aspect. No longer Travis Bickle Jr. Now I approach this as an actual job and not some grand experiment or noble vigilant. Just a guy in a cab making cash.

I told my co-cabbie I had a B.A.
"And you're driving a cab?"
Was all he had to say. What else could he say?
I'm aware of the absurdity myself, thank-you.
I don't need a guy in a Hot Topic jacket to point it out.
I figure if I have to be overqualified for a job, it should be a job with minimal responsibility.