This Haiku: Pretend

Where’s my olive girl

Who takes off her mask for me

And knows mine’s for fun

This Haiku: Happy For Happy

Happy at mid-day
Glad in the heat of the night
Resolved in the morn’

Things I don’t indulge:
My love of toast. Fairy tales.
Today’s different.

There’s a carved-out pit

of bones and blood, filled with a

loving heart. So smart.

The taste is toxic
And each press of the button
Smells of denial

Redemption’s for me
So many slippery slopes
I’ve climbed willingly

Brilliance bounces off
The tips of my eyelashes
When I look at you

This morning I thought:

Can I write with a fever?

But really, I must.

If simple’s golden
With virtuous rock in hand
Let us play hopscotch

Do Wanderers take
time for tea as they scamper
o’er treetops and towns?