En route to Long Beach
Epiphany:
Home is where the coffee is.
All day today, everywhere, it's damp, muggy, and smells like fart.
I'm not a huge fan of eau de fart.
Begin Haiku Rampage:
The floor laughs under
tickling toes of flyer's feet,
kajillions per day.
Walls chatter away
infinite stories to tell
where planes intersect.
I sincerely wish
my luggage didn't smell like
mildewy closet.
Tomorrow will be
sunny, warm, eighty degrees
when I'm far from here.
Please rain for me, Oh
sweet, damp City of Roses --
I'm on vacation.
Dear Starbucks: Please stop
burning the coffee every
time I'm here. It's gross.
Dear Starbucks: I might
consider drinking here, if
it was good at all.
Dear Starbucks: Your mom
is ashamed of you. Please stop
burning the coffee.
Dear Random White Guy,
We're at the airport. Please stop
staring at me Thanks.
Dear People from Wales,
Can you please talk forever?
I heart your accents.
Dear Skinny Blonde Girl,
Please eat something. Your rib bones
make my stomach hurt.
Dear Moldy Suitcase,
I'm still really mad at you.
Stop being smelly.
Dear My Aching Neck,
Don't give up on me now -- we're
not on the plane yet.
Dear August Michael,
You are the love of my life.
Period. The End.
Dear New Apartment,
Can you fast forward Time, please?
I am ready now.
End Haiku Rampage.
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