Haiku 16

I can’t write haiku about that fellow taking the shutter cord for his toy.

I could write haiku about the suspense thrumming as I breathe deeply.

Right now I think only of the two donuts awaiting me, soon…

The nurse guides a man on the phone; he’s gotten lost and have not we all?

I had to hear them squabbling over violence, to appreciate peace.

One mustn’t assume sadness, from the downturned face or the pleading hands

Front yard: Stalks poke up struggling past the edges of two small stiff green boots.

I can’t name the tree but its small bright blue blossoms etch the alleyway

A car beeps once in this cool grey morning is anyone aboard?

8:10 pm, stuck with this guitar I can’t sell; sunshine and splatter.

Nude by the window again; seventh-floor breezes cool on my left flank.

A question, he has, on the bus, but a Mohawk too; so, no answer.

A break in the rain gardener’s impatient rake pulls the still-moist leaves.

The sound of a smile yes, it’s a little bit like soup spooned from the bowl

The bum’s sundered face telephone in hand; sad news; he crimps a new smoke.