We continue this week in NPM with another frequent contributor, Charles Rammelkamp. This collection of Charles’ poems will take you on a narrative journey through the eyes of an interesting and very notable character. Cab Driver  Of all the people to almost run over! Anybody else, I’d have shrugged an apology, been on my way back home to Baltimore.  I’d come to the intersection  of H Street and Jackson Place,  maybe took the corner too sharp, veering in toward the curb, but I didn’t hit him, didn’t even come close to running Coolidge over!  But then the secret service guy, a different one from the one who grabbed Cal’s arm, jumped onto my running board, startled the hell out of me. “Who are you?” I demanded. “A secret service agent.”  He called over to a street cop, had me arrested, charged me with cutting corners, failing  to give the right…

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