Posted in Poetry, Writing

Running to Catch The Bus Across A Parking Lot of Black Ice: Haiku

the next bus doesn’t
come for another half hour.
i’d be late to work

all i have to do
is strategize a pathway
and try not to die

i see the bus. it’s
coming around the corner.
it’s now or never


everything hurts
i shouldn’t have left the house
life: 1. me: 0.