hEa- rt  thUmP,

thuMpiNg

faSt fuMinG steAm poinTeD

eArs reD, bLooD,  fLusHed.

breAtHe iN  bReaThe oUt

cAtcHinG  oN thE laSt bRowS  fUrrOweD eNouGh to toUch

liPs aJar  pUllinG hAir fRoM thE  rOots

shAtteR  sHattEr

cLouDed miNd

bReaKinG wAllS uN- til itS o v e r

Knock, Knock, Knock: Series of Haikus

do you go knocking  on death’s door every time you take a wrong turn
do you knock and knock and wait and wait until it opens, just to run
are you scared of what  is behind those big dark doors or ready to see

My lips move always, attracting annoyed stares and icy eyes. Wait, the bus passengers are actually sitting next to me! A record of three minutes before they scoot two inches away.

I’m sorry that I can’t help my mindless chatter. “I like milk. A funny thing. Milk from cows, goats, almonds, moms! Wow! Hey. Hay? I wonder what it is like living in hay. Itchy, I bet. Oh, how awful. The poor bugs stuck in there. Maybe they love it, the safety, until an animal chomps its way through the golden stack, I guess.”

Maybe I can be poetic. The sun and moon chasing each other, sharing the spotlight, oh a typical idea. Shall I get off here? Oh, but the ride is pleasant today, no need for walking.” “Me and window. I tag you. Blow gently on you, and rub my finger against you marking you like I see the children do.”  The people around me mind their own business and sometimes, I wish they didn’t. I wish someone would talk to me, but I guess they think that I already got who I need. Just myself. Always talking with myself. I’m not anything dangerous, just a little lonely.

I see a family that gets on, each one of them putting in the dollar thirty-five. “Raised right. Yes. Not many like that anymore, no no no. Oh are you staying in the front? I miss smiles, please. Maybe I can feed the pigeons. It’ll make something happy. Happy. Oh that’s a bad word. Is happiness real? Everyone spends so much time looking for happiness! What is the point? What if they never find it. Oh no, I’m scaring the children.”  I can’t look over at the children’s flushed cheeks without a concerned mother shielding them. Why is that?

The seat is getting moist. Maybe I should go.  “Yeah, yeah, maybe I will go now. Oh, there’s a place nearby. Got the best candies. For sure. Yeah, yeah. I will use that dollar thirty-five I so kindly neglected to pay. I am a good citizen. Oh! Hope no one heard that. Heh.” I cackle, amused with myself. All I receive are more spines turned towards me.

Man, how I used to dream of rows and rows of people, clapping when I bow, or say something funny. Now, these rows and rows of filled up bus seats just turn their backs and stare at the ground. Shoot.  “Next stop,” I mimic the bus lady, “Sallen and Walt.” I will get off, yes. Oh it is a nice day today. Light jacket weather. Yes, I suppose I shall grab some candies and bread then feed some pigeons. Ah yes.  A nice day it is.

Xuan Ly