Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Waiting for a phone call

Haikus are like tiny salted peanuts. I would think they'd be a good thing to write if I had, say, 10 minutes to wait. But if I take one salted peanut and eat it, all I am thinking about is another salted peanut. A haiku opens up like ripples on a pond. Something is evoked and before I know it there are thirty peanut shells scattered across the kitchen table and the phone hasn't rung yet and my mouth still craves five more syllables.

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