Outside, it’s still July
In my hotel room,
Late October
Friday haiku 91
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Outside, it’s still July
In my hotel room,
Late October
Outside, it’s still July
In my hotel room,
Late October
Nothing moves
in this heat
except desire
In the antique shop
on the ground floor
of the building
where my parents lived
the year they married
I thought I heard someone
call my name
as if I lived there
too, so long before
my birth in the camp.
Missed deadline —
robins have eaten
all the berries
A thousand messages
fill the night. “Over here!”
sing the chorus frogs.