Haiku Sunday - Memories of a Junkpile
This i the first time I have prefaced a Haiku Sunday. Juliet and I were out on a walk in our new urban development when we happened upon a pile of things strewn about a street corner. It was quite hard to believe that the items had not been intentionally and very likely maliciously dumped right across the street from our apartment building. It set our imaginations aflame with supposition and intrigue. Here is our interpretation of the mystery.
living on samples
trolling the aisles trying to look
different from before
In the early morn
the baker of dreams pulls off
the covers himself
she put down the book
as the last drop of the bath
turned cool and ugly
On a new street we
sometimes see the city guys
holding their paint cans
Mother was charged with
separating the new from
no longer needed
Botswana was his
only memory and still
she took it from him
the nape of her neck
called to him as he hoisted
what remained of his heart
into the pickup
while she laid there lifeless and
with nothing to say
trying them on was
always more fun than wearing
these clunkers she thought
her final hope clung
to her clutching hands as the
tornado touched down