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At the interview
J’s hired on the spot, full of
new employee glee.
Panera’s didn’t
call, nor Applebee’s. Rejec-
tion’s hard at sixteen.
She can’t stand her. He’s
her ex, so don’t include them.
Can’t we go alone?
Deciding who to
take like negotiating
Mideast peace treaty.
The play was about
them. His unrequited love
her indifference.
He sent sensitive
documents to a stranger
thinking it was me.
Florida is the
cheese at the end of the maze
known as air travel.
Night winds roar like a
giant parent screaming “Go
to sleep!” without words.
Shopped a membership
warehouse store today. Got six
years’ worth of ketchup.
Haiku, like bonsai,
needs care and pruning. A mind
unfocused kills both.
haven’t found me yet
they lurk like dirty water
under dark bridges
While I throw pennies
into a coin jar, Bear Stearns
gets a big bailout.
posted to my Twitter account
Project due and I * like the late adopter I * am, haven’t finished.
Left in Manhattan
cab. Friends’ numbers, pix of my
kids in strangers’ hands.
I am the dull one, struck
mute by accomplishment
what I do, nothing.
A haiku a day?
Not quite. Some days the tap runs,
some days it’s bone dry.
Anyone who makes
Ryan Seacrest sweat deserves
a special Oscar.
see also Inconstant blogger
That you’ve found me and
read my life in seventeen
syllables floors me.
Today J begins
flying not yet a driver
the sky’s the limit
We drive to where his
girlfriend’s dad says the haunted
tunnel is. We freak.
Bjork’s swan an urban
red carpet legend. Today
beauty takes no risks.
So hungry but the
dress fits stumble past photogs
smile stop nod pose smile.
Dreams of Oscars like
sugarplums dance in their heads.
Hollywood’s Christmas.
Midnight ghosthunting
at a tragic landmark seems
like a cool idea
Longing to hug them,
I wait ’til they flutter near
like moths to my flame.
Her face fronted a
movement, a magazine. My
mind’s jaw drops in awe.
Going to New York
City. I’ve bought black clothing,
black low-heeled shoes.
I’ll Dramamine my
self into torpidity,
sleep through drink service.
Like trying to use
your tongue as a lint brush, you
wake up fuzzy-mouthed.
Making travel plans,
like getting dressed for a date,
is a leap of faith.
TV’s “Fisherman
and His Wife” story for our
times. Unalloyed greed.
On weigh-in day I’d
inhale helium if it
would make me lighter.
Going to New York
to be on TV. Need new
clothes. A tent would work.
I keep coming to
post like a lover checking
for text messages.
If you clear out the
fridge for the turkey, then where’s
the other food go?
Canned pumpkin sold out.
Damned overachievers! I’m
a “last-minute” type.
Too many carbs. Need
tea, coffee, power drink. No
rest for the weary.
Any more coffee
and I’ll have energy to
power six cities.
An email from a
stranger descending into
madness unnerved me.
Guy next to me walked
out to take a call. His life
opened on his Dell.
Secrets like splinters
lodged down deep tear you apart
from the inside out.
S will travel with
me, security-blanket
friend I’m blessed to have.
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