Pockets

He leapt into the cab, slid his soaked Tumi bag across the leather back seats, and launched his wet umbrella onto the floor of the back seat.

“44th and Third, please,” He said, “and thank you for stopping. It’s vicious out there, this morning. People aren't shy about fighting over cabs in this rain.”

“It wasn’t always like this, you know,” the cabbie said as his eyes gazed back at me, framed in the rear view mirror.

“Vicious?” the young man asked.

“We’re more like animals than our brothers and sisters in the forest,” the cabbie started… and paused to gauge the young man’s interest in conversation.

“Agreed.” Stated the young professional in the suit and tie, as if an agreement was necessary for the driver to continue. The suit’s interest had been piqued. And to confirm his interest in the conversation, he continued, “Sometimes, I’m not so sure we’re not just animals in a concrete jungle, here.”

The old cabbie smiled a Knowing Smile.

The younger man in the backseat, having caught a glimpse of the grey haired, dark skinned cabbie’s smile in the rear view mirror, gazed out the window, watching a single drop of rain slide down the dirty window outside, and began to imagine that the cabbie was a guru sent from some far Indian land to teach him for that moment. He imagined “his” personal guru adorned in ornate and colorful robes sitting on some dirt floor in an uncomfortably warm and humid room that smelled of...

“Take First Ave, right?” the cabbie asked, refocusing the urban professional in the back who seemed lost looking out the rain clouded windows.

“Ummm.. yes.. First Ave. First to 33rd and over to Third, please,” the passenger directed.

Then, his guru looked into the cab’s rear view mirror again and, seeing the young suit staring back at him, continued, “Animals only take what they need from this Earth. Animals do not kill unless they are hungry and need nourishment. Animals do not compete with animals to build nicer or fancier homes, they seek shelter in what the Earth has given them. Animals don’t wear clothes, with pockets,”

The younger man in the back seat, still wet from the rain outside, smiled and repeated the old man’s last word: “Pockets,” He whispered.

“Yes, pockets,” said the cabbie, and then continued, “We Humans changed when we gave ourselves pockets. We have shoes with pockets, socks with pockets, belts with pockets, shirts with pockets, and our coats and pants usually have 4-5 pockets each. Then, we made big pockets and called them ‘backpacks’ and ‘purses’ and all those pockets only have one purpose – to put My Things into. So, when we reach into our Pockets and they’re empty, we feel empty. And when they’re full, we feel full. Our lives have become focused on one thing: filling Our Pockets with My Things. Animals, they don’t have pockets…”

The younger suit was sure, now, that this was his guru, and interjected, “Agreed. Pockets could be the root of all evil and the bane of our existence.”

The cabbie looked at him for a bit and then broke the silence, “Near corner or far corner?”

The startled young man looked out the window and saw that they had arrived, and answered, “Yes, Yes… Near corner – right here is fine.”

“Eight dollars, please” said the cabbie.

“A small sum to pay for this ride – keep the change,” answered the young man, handing the cabbie a ten-dollar bill from his pocket.

“Thank you,” said the cabbie… and as the young man gathered his Tumi bag and umbrella and put his wallet back into his pocket, the cabbie looked back and said these final words:

“We aren’t animals. We are humans and we could learn a lot from our brothers and sisters who have no pockets.”

And as the cab disappeared into the sea of cabs on Third Ave, the young man looked around him and for the first time, saw a world of 100,000 pockets with empty people walking around inside of them.