don't brush and drive

I can do lots of things while driving my manual transmission, no-power-steering Festiva at 75mph, including but not limited to:

-making and receiving phone calls (limited due to prohibitively loud ambient noise);
-sending and receiving text messages;
-writing haiku;
-drinking green vita-drink out of my Klean Kanteen.

But don't we have to draw a line somewhere? In the past week, I've seen two people brushing their teeth while driving on the freeway.

March 26 am

You toothsome Tony!
Dislodged parsley shift. Blind me
with your gleaming gums.


March 26 pm

Two of me would make
three! "Corduroy (nylon); pay
(don't pay). Talk (don't talk)."

Mar. 24 am

Bruised ribs scaffold my
sternum-nested slip of a
finch. Feathers all rest.


Mar. 24 pm

Musky caps, wires, drum
kits blue walled-in. My own guest
defenestrates me.

June 1, 2006

Meadow grass leans long
eastward. I left the sun in
the road behind me.

best line overheard at the anti-war march on Wednesday:

"If we get separated, I'll meet you by the Palestinians."

March 20 am

Jazz-seized neck, hands full
of flour. Your knotted spine
my lone untying.
-for MH


March 20 pm

Leaping ankles belled,
like a rare sweet I'm driven
to your night kitchen.
-MH

still life with surfboard and Poppy

Mar. 17 am

Salt rapt neoprene
skinned, I emerge seal-faced, all
eyes, humming with light.


Mar. 17 pm

Twelve years chopsticked: my
organs swapped soft spots, your arc
of stars trilled henna.
-for PB

Jose and the Big O

We have no haiku from yesterday because there was no commute yesterday.

There was, instead, a tow by the golden-toothed Jose, who reassured me that Dusty and I would be just fine, and took me to "this guy he knows" who charged me $5 cash (you are reading that right--$5) to fix my wheel up enough to get me home, and later on, to W Macarthur's Big O Tires, and, it's official: I love those guys. Everyone I dealt with after yesterday morning's freeway fiasco was so thoroughly pleasant--I can't even shed a tear for my shredded tire. I'm going to spend more time hanging out with mechanics.

I did unearth more haiku from the 2006 archives, buried beneath a small stack of maps in the front seat:

June 29, 2006

Siren's Flash, shock of
white hair, licks salt from fish scales,
legs, teeth, neck whispers.
-for Flash

Mar. 12 am

Pterodactyl hawks
in your false news. Wait while I
gunpowder my face.


Mar. 12 pm

Smiling, traffic thick
cars merge, then turn on you like
your lover's sisters.

before Leslie

Forgot about these. Two days pre-Leslie-era. Unimportant.

Mar. 6 am

Unshuffled justice
brightly suited. The last drawn
card calls her answers.


Mar. 6 pm

You and ten thousand
chicks in the dark, sightless. "What
can they think?" we pray.
-for ST

I begin living the LY's

Like alien abductees with visceral yet hazy memories, I'm not entirely sure what happened to me on Saturday night. All I can tell you is that because of this woman, my life may now be divided into pre- and post- Leslie eras.

Mar. 10 am

Keeper of the gems,
reveal the golden fruits of
your lady buffet.

Mar. 10 pm

Zombie assassin,
lioness of lamé, feast
her eyes on french fries.

people, there are household items all over the freeway!

Dang. It's messy out there.

Mar. 5 am

Freeway garbage dump.
Paper towels scatter like
moth wings. Flightless light.


Mar. 5 pm

Puffy chair mushrooms
white in tree shade. A fey boy
lazing for a hitch.

May 31, 2006

Shadow boys in cracked
armor. Teeth, skin, fawn-hearts, wings.
We call you at dawn.

Mar. 3 am

Palm fronds dust concrete.
Riots of pollen dust up.
Through traffic merge left.


Mar. 3 pm

Daffodil rascals
unspring me to Jesus. A
harp in the gut, strummed.

rats rule

June 8, 2006

Rearview East Bay Rat,
slice lanes like a swift switchblade.
Take me with you, man.