Mang Serapio is a driver,
But he is not really any driver, he is a taxi driver
But he is not really any taxi driver, he is a college graduated taxi driver,
But he is not any college graduated taxi driver, he finished his doctorate a long time ago,
But he is not someone who had a doctorate, he is a billionaire,
But he is not any billionaire, he is a taxi driver.
Mang Serapio left his life of riches, of gold and cocktails
Because his mansion is empty, his children's love is empty,
His wife is still with him because of his money but her kisses are now empty,
She has a lover as he accepted, he already accepted that he is no longer the other half, another man, a younger and athletic man, owns her crotch,
His son is an addict to designer drugs and pretty whores, his daughter just had an abortion in Los Angeles,
He have everything, he thought before, but really he has nothing but money in the bank.
Now Mang Serapio drives a white taxi not for a living but to feel he is still living.
Driving a taxi makes you realize other people's problems, life and hopes,
A little chat, a little question, a little comment on the pink fences of EDSA,
These are the ice breakers that break masks,
And he had seen lives and loves and of dreams and nightmares,
Problems of money, of unfaithful husbands, of angry fathers,
Dreams of better life, of employment or passing the bar,
These things Mang Serapio listen while he drives while the sun rises against the horizon filled with towering buildings ,
These stories Mang Serapio contemplate along the darkness and anonymity of avenues and the glow of street lamps.
Mang Serapio will speak sometimes, from what he learned from his life, of the lessons he learned from emptiness,
Mang Serapio told a woman once who is contemplating of having an abortion,
That whatever her decision God will still love her,
That maybe love had pushed her to do acts that brought her in that situation,
But Mang Serapio continued, that for her partner to suggest to her that abortion is an answer, surely her partner wants sex for any reason but love,
These thoughts made her cry, but after an hour and a half of traffic, she smiled and hugged Mr. Serapio,
She left the cab, with a glow and touching her still small womb with hope for a better future.
There is one time where there is a pimply faced lad,
Crying out of fear from his father and on the years he wasted,
Mang Serapio did not ask his school or his study habits,
But told that what you planted today, ought to be harvested tommorrow,
What the future will bring is what you do today,
The lad's eye still wet, smiled at this and hoped,
Living the cab and giving Mang Serapio something to eat.
There is one night when a mugger pointed an icepick at him,
Mang Serapio asked him for what use is the money he demands,
It is for the medicine of his daughter the mugger justifies,
And Mang Serapio smiled a weak and sad smile,
He reached for his check and wrote fifty thousand pesos for him,
Mang Serapio also give three thousand from his earnings,
The mugger, seeing the generosity, ran in shame and disgust.
The sun is setting,
The fumes and pollution of the city corrupted the sun into an orange glow,
And Mang Serapio received into his cab a man so gloomy and dark,
The man is carrying a box of cake,
Another traffic.
And Mang Serapio learned that the man is angry with the affairs of his wife,
It is a long traffic.
After little talks the man tells him how he wants to poison his wife in their anniversary,
It is really a long traffic.
Mang Serapio tells the man that killing his wife is not really the answer,
That ending his wife's life will not undo any damages done to him,
And Mang Serapio suggested that justice can only be achieved not by anger but by proper words and a clear mind.
The traffic moved.
The man gave it a thought. Left the money and went out of the cab.
The traffic freely moved.
And it was night.
Mang Serapio noticed a box of cake in his back seat.
He opened it. Seeing it was chocolate, he happily ate it.
Then he stared at the moving lights of the avenue.
All was blurred.
And he died.
