Cabaletta

As the Tennessee Williams of the taxicab, Davidson Garrett takes us on a ride through his beloved New York City. The poems in this beautiful collection bring to life such New York icons as Jackie O and Walt Whitman, but Garrett also pauses to witness the sad bones of the early days following 9/11, as well as the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. A whole history here as you sit back in your comfortable seat and watch the scenery. A really wonderful read.

-Francine Witte, author of Only, Not Only, Caf? Crazy and The Theory of Flesh



What better way to learn about a city than through its poetry? And who better qualified to write the poetry of New York City than a lifelong poet employed for four decades as a taxi driver? "I know I'm only / a little speck in this vast plot of commerce, but a speck that shines / its own light," writes Davidson Garrett, and that light illuminates a tremendous amount: encounters with famous riders, inside views of national tragedy ("I will be forever / haunted," observes the poet in one of the collection's two poems dedicated to his experience on 9/11), fleeting glimpses of people the poet wishes to know better but cannot-be it Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis or a fish food salesman from Secaucus-and the stoicism and humility of someone often unseen, who in his turn sees so much. Replete with Garrett's lifelong passion for the arts-especially opera-Cabaletta effortlessly testifies to the quiet grandeur of his occupation while paying memorable tribute to one of the world's great cities.

-Anton Yakovlev, author of Chronos Dines Alone, Winner of the James Tate Poetry Prize



Whether he's driving Martha Graham, Mitt Romney, a traveling salesman of fish food flakes, or a fare who angrily doesn't want any of his small talk, Davidson Garrett chronicles a cab driver's life in vivid, often gritty details. He transports us through 12-hour shifts from desolate early morning through the jammed streets of the "yellow caterpillar" in rush hours. He was parked awaiting a fare beneath the North Tower when it was rammed by a jetliner on 9/11, raining debris onto his cab from the immense explosion above him. It is often a hard life, with solitary time for meditation and regrets. A cabaletta is an aria, and Garrett sings it beautifully in his canary yellow cab, working the streets he knows so intimately.

-William Considine, author of The Furies