Ferry Landing

Ferry Landing —
two gulls fight
over a cigarette butt

Friday night

Friday night —
a limo pulls up
to the Hard Rock Cafe

Wellesley rush hour

Wellesley rush hour —
two BMWs
lock horns

No Service

Confirmed: the man talking to himself is not wearing a bluetooth headset. A kind-hearted tourist trys to give him a dollar, but he keeps on staring at the third rail.

The robot conductor is announcing every stop as Central Square. Good thing no one pays attention to him anyway.

I tell everyone that I can see the old Harvard Square station just before we enter the new one, but nobody believes me. Take heart, Whitey Bulger: your secret is safe.

overcast

overcast —
a beggar looks away
when I walk by

snowmelt

snowmelt —
the neighbors’ trash
in our yard

moonless night

moonless night —
I can’t remember
the color
of her eyes

Wellesley Square

Wellesley Square —
a jogging couple’s
matching wool mittens

equinox

equinox —
a lawyer faxes me
a copy of the Will

new moon

new moon —
my son describes
his dream tattoo

fresh snow

fresh snow —
the dog’s nose disappears
into a footprint

dirty snow

dirty snow —
my father-in-law’s estate
in a spreadsheet

storm clouds

storm clouds —
a red-tailed hawk
with a broken wing

for KZL

broken clouds

broken clouds —
a mockingbird cries
“uh-oh!”

Naples, FL

Florida gridlock

Florida gridlock —
turkey vultures
circle overhead

somewhere north of Tampa on I-75

partly cloudy

partly cloudy —
my father-in-law
forgets his punchline

Zephyrhills, FL

daylight savings time revisited

I’d love to have that hour back...
not that I object to
a well-intentioned illusion
but I’m better misconstrued
in honest twilight.

hence the dilemma:
what would I do
with another sixty minutes
and the wisdom of another day?
swallow my words
with a stiff whiskey chaser
and gaze not an inch
beyond your eyes.

cold snap

cold snap —
my mother forgets the date
of my next visit

waiting for the train

waiting for the train
a software engineer
plays air guitar

total eclipse

total eclipse —
the dog
has all the blankets

the ex-factor

Truer words were never spoken: love may fade, but an ex is forever. The end of a relationship has inspired many a poetic pity party, and more than a few haiku. Speaking for myself, I’ve been mining this particular topic for nearly 13 years, starting with a haiku I wrote while trying to adjust to my suddenly single status:

recently separated —
still reaching
for the ring

A few years, and many thousands of dollars in legal fees later, my tone changed dramatically:

threat of frost —
my ex-wife
enters the court room

Since then, my perspective has run the gamut from sadness:

winter overcast —
my ex-wife’s photo
in an old book

to bitterness and angst:

speaking with my ex-wife
I break open a peanut
and eat the shell

cold drizzle —
my ex-wife’s voice
on the answering machine

to unfettered nastiness:

the old tugboat
pushes a rusty barge —
my ex-wife’s plus-sized dress

while the sparrows wait
a fat squirrel
empties the bird feeder

I know I should be a kinder, gentler haiku poet, but I just can’t help myself...

March

March —
a broken umbrella
crosses the street