Haiku 60

She giggles at her grey pubic hair through new glasses

An old film… the youth’s curly leg hair vanishes mid-thigh

An ambulance waits… little girl rides a scooter in ellipses

Coke bottles clink in his square basket… pedaling home

He pressure-washes into the windstorm… prancing spray-ghosts

Tuscon does not vibrate, does not ring… soft like the desert

Fresh socks go faster doubled each day in my rain boots

Kicked to the curb… but I’m blessed with this stoplight and a bracing freeze

This grey day born half-dead, capitulates to patient dark

A fight I don’t want to have (she’s thrown out good bread yet again)

A retreat; melting ice…my erection shrivels in my pants

This train as it speeds–pushing wind ahead

Deaf-mute, numb to thunder, sees lightning with his eyes closed

Wednesday… I pitch loneliness to the gull, swooping