A Walk
Empire State Building
shadows me from behind one...two...
three smokestacks.
Funny how a distant high building or peak or the
moon trails you on a walk. Food for paranoia?
Beyond the steps
a dark head...turns away as we near;
sound of pissing.
East Village, Manhattan, 1969.
Walking past--
BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!
Don't think it hasn't.
Good old fences!
If this dog attacks,
I could kick him there or else...
Just walk, Samurai.
I like dogs, even the ones who growl at me, but
I'd just seen "Yojimbo" for the second or
third time.
Walking at night,
hiss at my ankle...someone's
sprinkler system.
Dusk - I climb the hill,
putting the sun back
in the sky.
Easy to do if the sun has just vanished behind the
hill top.
Walking - the trees play
hide and seek behind
each other.
The jogger's legs pump
as arms stiffly shrug -
"Don't blame us."
"Private! Private!" bark
suburban dogs, as excited
as insulted virgins.
Her four-year-old steps
fit neatly into mine -
two to one - this spring day.
Spring morning walk:
For each of my steps
the child takes two.
Two versions of same idea, the second and simpler
making a better haiku, I think. It's spring, and perhaps
she is stretch a little to match my steps, even with
two of hers.
White cat on the path
sees me coming, scoots.
Lonely human.
So many creatures avoid us! Also lonely as part
of humanness - as part of human awareness or self-consciousness.
Walking at night,
autumn air crisp
with reds and yellows.
Night walk -
I breathe cool autumn air.
Pines secrete darkness.
The trail comes to
a long rolling valley...
Oh! Golf carts.
Disappointment: You've been following a trail, new
to you, and come to a vista of open green and think
"Ah!", then realize you have come to a golf
course.
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