A memoir in haiku

Memorable moments
from a life spent studying the
world’s absurdity.

Who peed in your pants
Grandma asked when I was five.
Roy Rogers, I said.

A young smart-aleck,
the penchant for drollery
a gift from my dad.

Trying to play sax
at age12, eyes on the prof’s
red-haired teen daughter.

Park Junior lessons:
cherry bombs blasting commodes,
zip guns made in shop.

Seventh-grade classmate
taken by cops one day, an
unwilling dropout.

Housing a green snake
inside my locker — till he
left home, trailing screams.

School protection con
was a huge success — then Slack
cold-cocked the top boss.

In school parking lot
eighth grader’s Merc got rubber
– and our attention.

Turn of tap puts end
to a shower-room card game;
losers doubly soaked.

Six of us carried
Russell’s Crosley, setting it
outside the gym door.

Loud math-class squawking –
a live chicken wants out of
Miss Million’s desk.

A seven-week stint
washing dishes at Boy Scout camp,
honing cursing skills.

Foes became fast friends
after fight that started with taunt
of “sling fist, monkey”.

Teacher is snoring
in civics class so we learn
about anarchy.

Cool on Friday night:
back row at the Palace, eye
out for some action.

Cheerleaders, twirlers:
female form given wide-eyed,
attentive study.

Twisting at the hop –
moves so easy we each feel
we’re too cool for school.

Back-row BB drops;
study-hall teacher chasing
multitude of pings.

Before school day starts
piano boogie-woogie
shakes us and wakes us.

Driver’s ed images:
honking horns, dirty looks and
steering-wheel death grip.

Senior chapel blues:
student rockers’ gig ends when
teacher unplugs amp.

 

 

Mating Rituals — a report

In the first image, a Common Kawasaki Ninjus, female, rests in the shade.

A male, sporting seasonal colors along the shoulders, approaches.

Finally, a yearling catches up to the adults.

bikes8bikes4bikes6

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hillbilly Haiku

Satellite dishing

reality, hunkered in

a hillside trailer.

 

 

Yellow jonquils bloom,

prettying the front yard from

their commode planter.

 

Overstuffed jaw

holds well-worked tobacco:

chipmonk with a chaw.

 

Chunky concoction,

mealtime nightmare from my youth:

cornbread and clabber.

 

Honking of wild geese:

haunting reminder of the

squawks of an ex-wife.

 

Couch or rocking chair,

practiced lazybones can

wallow in either.

 

On any topic

he speaks with authority

though he knows nothing.

 

The sagging trotline

is signaling a big catch:

prize lunker, or carp?

 

Eenie’s Eats, Teek’s Bar,

Vern’s Bait, Henderlight’s Feed Store —

the cap has to fit.

 

Gray possum splayed

on the highway center line,

not playing this time.

 

Fried bologna, charred,

slapped between white bread slices;

mustard or mayo?

Up on blocks it rests,

a hillside hulk, testament

to roadhouse rambling.

 

Dancing plastic bag,

skittering across the road,

all its moorings lost.

 

Labeled a dandy,

juggling too many toppers,

bald but looking good.

 

 

 

Mating Rituals — a report

In the first image, a Common Kawasaki Ninjus, female, rests in the shade.

A male, sporting seasonal colors along the shoulders, approaches.

Finally, a yearling catches up to the adults.

bikes8bikes4bikes6