Relics

Already obsolete
before we know it
like white-haired gramps
parading hot rods

toys lovingly restored
by the unrestored.

Oleg shines his car
lives in a world of
Naugahyde and
cherry red paint.

Today a barista
poured an exact replica
of a certain mountain
in Japan.

I drank it.
Goodbye to my
dreams of Basho.

Friday haiku 136

Fridays piling up
Like migrants at the border
The poet snoring

Friday haiku 135

Bright sun, cool breeze
Birds on the wing.
Feet, you paying attention?

Friday haiku 134

After the rain
A sun-stranded worm
Like a question mark

Friday haiku 133

Stillness so deep
You can hear
A pen fall