Lake: Afternoon: Haikus

sitting by the shore,
a generic fisherman
craves a cigarette

..

three splashing children
reinvent themselves as shapes
they once saw on screen

..

a mother, reading
paperback, anticipates
the next rendezvous

..

a boy, eyes grinning,
unwraps a milky way bar
– first time shoplifting

..

watching other kids
play, a lone girl swears to guard
the secret of eels

..

lovers in the shade
make up names for babies
they would never have

..

“What democracy?”
a man points and demands, as
his audience yawns

..

on the grass, a stoned
poet writes the tragedy
that all ice cubes share

..

a pensive woman
counts dragonflies, tracing the
limits of language

..

an old man, strolling,
recalls a Greek bakery
with last night’s hunger

..

students picnic, pour
boxed wine into plastic cups.
laughing, they forget

..

among the bushes,
an exuberant jimmy
urinates proudly

..

a tanned vagabond
ties down his whimpering dog
then goes for a dip

..

the water report:
pH slightly alkaline
with traces of lead

..

overlooking the
lake, she informs me: no one
can see us at all

– s

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