A sink hole opens
in a once serene landscape
and cannot be filled.
Disappointment
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A sink hole opens
in a once serene landscape
and cannot be filled.
Looking glass spray paint
fail. Dollar Tree junk still lacks
Pottery Barn charm.
Dandelion seed
responsibilities float
away on each breath
Summer is golden
butterscotch, January
skim milk, thin weak pale.
Like a dorm room on
four wheels, it’s a place to get
drunk stoned laid changed sleep.
Forgotten summer
umbrella aged by winter’s
wig of heavy snow.
Ate bad stuff. Gained weight.
Hate myself. Still, I think, There’s
always tomorrow…
I quit my job to
work on my haiku blog. Chance
of millions, slim / none.
Vague tomorrow is
malleable until tempered
by the here and now.
Drops by at four, raids
the fridge, toasts unhappy hour
to his firing squad.