11,041 vagabonds plus:
The man impatiently tapped four fingers upon the wooden desk, simulating the steady beat of a drum. A torn and faded Jamaica 4 Days 3 Glorious Nights! poster duct-taped on the wall over his left shoulder seemingly dripped like a leaky faucet. He stopped, fished a pocket watch out of his sweaty vest, opened and over-wound it, and purposely snapped it's tarnished lid shut.
'And so, no cruises, no Icelandic bobbing, no breezing along the Champs Elysées for you, heh?
'It's just that we want something different.'
He close his eyes. 'Yes, yes, of course, as you were.'
He leaned back, and looking up saw that actually there was a dark spot on the drop ceiling from the upstairs commode.
'Something completely different.'
He looked at her. 'How about the Accountant's Hall Of Fame, in dear old Bellfontaine?' Oh, the sarcasm was in fine four-finger fashion now.
'Nope. Two summers ago. When our youngest was still living at home.'
'It's a souvenir bonanza. Pencils galore. Worth a second adventure.'
'The Big Top Circus in Kalamazoo?'
'No, I don't believe so.'
'Nineteenth Century Magpie Sculptures of Willow Manor?'
'The Snooze Napping Museum in Rochester?'
'A riveting display of colorful floating hammocks.' He was looking up at the ceiling splotch again. 'Riveting.'
'Yes. I believe that'll do nicely. My husband would like that.'
'Indeed.' He yawned. 'Fine.'
haiku heart salutation
Window to summer
One orbital grand tour
My heart remembers
A tribute to Rebecca, for letting me play the three-line home version of 'recuerda mi corazon,' exclusive home of Haiku My Heart
brief musical interlude
Back lit solitude
Concert under two dollars
Played in 4/3 time
To Kill A Mockingbird (Main Title)
haiku by sea
Sturdy sailboat built for two
Shaggy pal o' mine
photo: courtesy google images
And, as always, the symmetrical 5-7-5 captured in a tradewind bound for 'recuerda mi corazon,' exclusive home of Haiku My Heart
By the shore she sells
Shell out crest of ear to hear
Distant woodchucks chuck
quote for today
There is something in the human spirit that will survive and prevail, there is a tiny and brilliant light burning in the heart of man that will not go out no matter how dark the world becomes.
~ Leo Tolstoy
Raise the support beam
Caring neighbor foundation
Mansion of kind hearts
photo courtesy Shorpy.com
And, as always, all 17 syllables hammered with dowels in place for 'recuerda mi corazon,' exclusive home of Haiku My Heart.
'Yer out!' One wrong word from category F and the disbelieving runner is given the heave-ho. He brushes his soiled pants and offers three words from category SOB.
The manager scoots his beer belly across the diamond, reluctantly leaving his crackerjacks on top of the bench in the dugout, accompanied by the stadium organist's William Tell Overture blasting through all fourteen park speakers. The organist never misses a pitch, play, or belch.
'He was safe,' Charlie says calmly, catching his breath.
'Yer blind and need to schedule an appointment with a certified optometrist right away.'
The Ump, Milton, points to the official scorekeeper in the press box, then to Charlie, and the thumb goes up. 'Yer, outta here.'
'Why, Milton?' Milton turns his back.
'Can't we discuss it? Milton? Milton? Can't I even kick up some infield dirt like old Leo Durocher first?'
Milton looks at him.
'Now there was a great manager.'
'He missed the tag.'
'I remember Leo.' Milton rubs his chin and smiles.
'Here. He wasn't tagged. Look at me. I'm kicking dirt.'
'Go right ahead. The organ player will accompany you in mere moments.' Looney Tunes echoes out, mocking Charlie.
'Geez, Charlie, I thought they liked you here in your own home town.'
'I thought they did too. I'm not done kicking dirt, Milton.'
'You'll have to leave us now, Charlie.' Two more umpires wander over.
'He was safe.'
'I'm not going to argue with you.'
The organist begins playing Three Blind Mice. The crowd politely applauds. The Ump points to the right of the press box where the pipe organ resides and ejects the organ player. All is silent except for scattered booing. There is no more music. The organist gathers up his sheet music into a black folder, some papers spilling out like squishy tomato from a decked ham sandwich, folds his spectacles, puts on his raincoat on this beautiful evening, descends six flights of cement steps, gets in his car, revs it up, and drives away weeping.
True falsetto morning cry
Nuttin' rhymes with orange
photo: Center Market, 1922, Washington, D.C.
And, as always, all 17 syllables squeezed to check ripeness for 'recuerda mi corazon,' exclusive home of Haiku My Heart
songs my mother taught me
quote for today
"And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’"
~ Kurt Vonnegut
A Man Without a Country
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