Seven Suburban Haiku
Squirrel’s torn-off tail
lying by the garbage pail:
where is the squirrel?
Stray cat sits wailing
outside my bathroom window.
I’m too busy, cat.
On my lawn, brown grass
pressed flat into the shape of
something that slept here.
“Go long – what a catch!”
Sunday afternoon in the
doctor’s parking lot.
This was the last time
I’ll be mosquito-bitten
until, oh, next May.
From the neighbor’s yard
hammering nails into wood
sounds like, “Leave your home.”
Gaps in the palings
show us to the neighbors when
we’re doing nothing.
lying by the garbage pail:
where is the squirrel?
Stray cat sits wailing
outside my bathroom window.
I’m too busy, cat.
On my lawn, brown grass
pressed flat into the shape of
something that slept here.
“Go long – what a catch!”
Sunday afternoon in the
doctor’s parking lot.
This was the last time
I’ll be mosquito-bitten
until, oh, next May.
From the neighbor’s yard
hammering nails into wood
sounds like, “Leave your home.”
Gaps in the palings
show us to the neighbors when
we’re doing nothing.
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