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.