by David Hartnett (daithí)

Have you ever asked yourself this question: How is a classified ad like a yellow cab? Such divergent thinking was not a product of my own ruminations. Rather, it began at The Front, a local gallery that hosts poetry readings. The reading was emceed by PSOV President, Joy. And the creative diversions of three poets caused me to reflect upon the question. It was, after all, Poetry Month in April in Vermont.

One of the poets, N.G. Haiduck took us to the classified ad section of a newspaper, where she once worked. Her poetry was peopled with characters peddling one-inch or two-inch adblock. Each ad writer was assigned different sections to sell. And sometimes, the staff were engaged in turf wars.

N.G. also has a published set of stories with the title of Cabbie, 1971, 1972, based upon her experiences as a taxi driver in the early 1970s. When I took the collection of stories home, I was drawn to the descriptions she captured as a young cabbie in New York. Then, the question emerged.

How is a classified ad like a yellow cab?

So humor me: how is a classified ad like a yellow taxi cab? Let me count the ways.

They both have limited space. Most newspaper ads in the past were measured by the inch. Most cabs are not limousines and can carry a limited number of passengers.
They both have specific destinations. An ad is set up to take the reader to a place within a newspaper, where they can find professional services, items for sale, or personal requests. For the cab, the passenger tells the driver where she/he wants to go.
They both tend to have clipped speech. A classified ad tends to fit as few words to sell an item or service, while many inner-city passengers convey their wishes in almost telegraphic messages to the driver.
They both have specific areas to cover. An ad is mapped out by the domains of fashion, wares, and services. A cab is driven to a passenger’s home, work, or lunch meeting. The copy writer of the ad is familiar with her/his section of the want ads. The driver knows the various neighborhoods in a city.

I could go further, but I would rather leave additional comparisons to you, as a reader. My take-away is that poetry (and the backstory of what job experiences each of us has had) leaves us to wonder at the act of creation.

Who, after all, would have imagined a former banker from the Midwest composing The Waste Land?