Haiku

Isolated
under our dark umbrellas,
we eye each other up.

*

I still remember
the way she flicked her cigarette
into a puddle.

*

Honey locusts stand
naked in the rain, surrounded
by shed yellow leaves.

*

The hiss of tires,
the slap of curb-surf against fire plug,
the hush.

*

Fountain in a downpour:
a homeless man in a poncho
fishes for change.

*

Wet footprints lead
to every other table
in the coffee shop.

*

A clear plastic sheet
keeps the nude cover girls dry
at the news stand.

*

Sun shining through rain:
umbrellas rise to reveal
astonished faces.

Wet city: by Dave Bonta 2008