* * *

Three thin monks, southbound pass a street hawker sporting that same shade of orange.

Old man shakes his head but does not move over, his thumbnails, talons.

On her knees, she sings at the church door, 10 pm; is He still at home?

Heat on my left foot toes crimped against the dresser, enough for tonight.

“Live in the moment!” …well, except for that clogged drain back in my shower.

The madwoman! I shrink from her yells; will she dive out her window?

“Fifty Shades of Grey” scans well enough for haiku… some lousy porn, though.

My accomplishments on the scale of one soup bowl, don’t amount to much.