Haiku 41
He didn’t shoot me for looking at him funny so here I am now
I’ll file my report the whiskey ran off with my night leaving splintered sun
That pecking pigeon could it wander through the doors of the southbound train?
A flagger, shrouded in bright orange; excavator waits for the whistle
And I’m lumped in with this whole busload, young to old watching the fall storm
Hoodied, with gnarled hands assembling a thin syringe Happy Thanksgiving
A drowning man’s wail or windshield wipers on glass sound the same downtown
Crickets chirp until the freshly-molted gecko decides on dinner
Nothing better but to record those cold speckles filling the pothole
Absent any sky arc lamps schpritzer in puddles passable starlight
This bus rolls so slow the piss filling my bladder tops out before home
He shares lollipops with the sniping punk couple northbound, Christmas Eve
Pigeon and seagull share silent rooftop sunbreaks street stilled, Christmas Day
Belltown crow opens a takeout box with its beak between showers