I hailed a cab at four thirty this morning and got a driver with straw-colored hair. After I got in, he met my eyes in the rearview mirror and said, “Did you see any pussy out there tonight?” I told him I hadn’t been looking, so some might have slipped by unnoticed. “You can usually see pussy further south, on Montrose,” he said. “But a lot of that is sick pussy. ’Course, it’s a little bit cold out there tonight. Cold and late. A lot of that pussy is home now, home asleep.” I’m often talked to like this by taxi drivers, and it makes me think their cabs should be a different color than the
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