Haiku 21

He throws a quarter and a dime, into the sun clutching chardonnay.

Rain drips down the ledge my friend sleeps in the back room two hours to sundown

Southbound SUVs caught in mid-morning commute are varispeed snails.

I could wager on which stone a raindrop might strike and lose yet again.

Late-night bus tunnel forgotten, tomorrow the blue of train 16

Four green lights hang back in a hunched pack; gang-bangers awaiting their strike.

White roses, bouquets and the old lady keeps them refrigerated.

“All beauty must die” sang Alan last night, onstage… dare I disagree?

Uncollected stones reaffirm optimism in autumn twilight

This summer, tries hard not to die; blazing daytime …cold nights, decay.

What I have, really to claim? This one piece of skin and dust on my floor.

I clutch at the air my clawed fingers signify victory!… Well, big whoop.