Haiku 41

Image by Andrew Hamlin.
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

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