Saturday, November 5, 2011

Haiku Monday: Death

 




                                                   Guillotine whistles.
                             Copper curls burnished with blood,
                             lips pale like moonrise.


At open mic night
I tell tales of match.com.
 No one cracks a smile.

3 comments:

  1. But did you get any hecklers?

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  2. Of course, this is not a true story. At the risk of sounding overly confident, I think I would find an appreciative audience with my stories. (I could start with my dates with the gorgeous, tall Filipino personal trainer who enjoyed dry humping in Central Park, ditched me after 4 dates, and then became my actual personal trainer 6 months later. I daresay, few things are funnier than the term "dry humping," unless, of course it's "tall Filipino."

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  3. Oh, how I wish the story were true. Fleur doing stand-up is a priceless image.

    On your story: Like I needed any more evidence that married stability is a daily blessing. Now all there's left to do is hope that senility is everything it's cracked up to be.

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