#177

     On Friday night
walking through the barrio
     under a crescent moon
* * *

#170
     The night air has cool'd
and the space between my arms
     still remains empty
* * *

#171
     The night air has cool'd
Like Autumn has come early
     And still you are gone
* * *

#165
     "Guilty," the judge said.
"Envious of a wine glass."
     How embarrassing!

#157
     My heart's crude ballon
Whenever I see your face—
     Smile at me again
* * *

     Something is coming
the bellowing train horn warns—
     "Soon, soon," she whispers

     A thousand pictures:
the value of a haiku—
     Still can't afford rent

Because my phone died, I wasn't able to get a photo of the three old white dudes in Crocs on the streetcar.  Instead, I had to capture the moment in haiku:

     Three white guys in Crocs.
Two of them are wearing socks—
     One lonely black sheep

     Just one person can
forever ruin the smell
     of wet grass at night

     I have this disease
where I write shitty haiku
     about pretty girls
---

     what a lovely thing,
rain falling in the desert
     on a monday night.