haiku - Sept. 22, 2023
- Gary Hunter
- Sep 21, 2023
- 1 min read
if stomachs could talk
it would be exactly like
the drunks at a bar
top of page
Search
Recent Posts
See Allfor twenty years, I stop to chat nearly every day as he sweeps his sidewalk laughter alternates with juicy bits of street news, the weather, his disappointing sunflowers a feral cat he feeds slink
I pass a picture window my back bent, like a bow, waiting to be strung or perhaps a fishing rod with a big one pulling on the hook didn’t your mother ever yell Don’t hunch, stand up straight!
on the roof we talk solar he, with laugh large and soft like a morning sun and eyes like the dusty glint off glass gentle, not harsh ten minutes later we’re ten pages into the open book of his lif
bottom of page
Comments