The troubles of the world have gotten the best of me; I have no particular idea for a meaty essay.
So -- more police blotter haiku! Because my brain may be stuck in neutral, but the citizens of small-town America never cease to act out in interesting ways. Here are more of their stories, distilled from news copy down into the 17 syllables of an old-school haiku. And one of these days, there'll be a book.
And as always, enjoy.
Soon-to-be-exes
in a knock-down drag-out o'er
Who gets the cat box.
His ex barged in and
smashed his Christmas tree but not,
at least, his new girl.
Her cell-phone savior:
When Grand-Dad tried to grope her,
she recorded him.
Their friend went missing.
But the cops knew where he was
As they'd put him there.
Banned from the Safeway,
He eyeballs his former haunt
from across the street.
When the dog bit him,
he pursued it in anger
and with pruning shears
The neighbor's ivy
trespasses in his garden,
overgrows his calm.
A muddy boot print
on the driver's window of
a vandalized car
Three in the morning.
A chicken coop catches fire.
Do hens smoke in bed?
A burglar alarm
he can't recall the code for.
The cops come often.
Is EVERYBODY drunk?
Or is there really out there,
somewhere, an ostrich?
(Note: Haiku 1, 3, and 8 came from a small-town Kentucky paper that's not fully on the Internet. But a reader sends me copies through the snail mail. Thanks, EvoDevo!)
5 comments:
As always I read your prose and applaud the craftsmanship, the stripped beauty. Your best always have a hook that stays and these did.
OK, you've got my curiosity. How did the original ostrich sighting read?
Interesting neighborhood you have....ostrich....I only have dogs and cats.
Nova: thanks. It's going to be a rough day, and your compliment will make it a little easier to get through.
Katie: I don't have the original with me, but essentially: three callers reported sighting an ostrich at different times and places, but the police couldn't locate it.
Martiki: not my neighborhood. These were drawn from smallish-town newpapers up and down California and back into the Rockies. My town could definitely match most of these stories, and I've lived through a few like these -- deer stampeding down the main drag, naked coeds cavorting in the street -- but the local paper doesn't cover them. And then they have the nerve to complain about low circulation!
I should add that three of the most dire of these haiku were inspired by items from a small-town paper back in Kentucky that really isn't on the Internet; a friend sends me copies. Life seems harder there.
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