Haiku for Adulthood: Self-flagellation edition 1


I wasn’t born to

follow rivers. I mistake

clarity for ease.



Sometimes we ate

dinner in the Super Kmart.

Each time was a “treat.”



She said, “You are the

girl I’m kind of in love with.”

Kill ’em with kind ofs.



I cried over a

Titanic preview, and took

it out on Celine.




considering adding Facebook

“pokes” to my number.



I was born to

follow rivers, to dream my way

into existence.



You don’t work this way, I’ve

found. Not yet anyway.

I keep dreaming still.



You sent a postcard

from Belize . It’s the one thing

from you I can touch.



I don’t often though.

I fear I’ll ruin its realness

with my clinging.



I sleep with men who

have girlfriends and gym memberships.

I dream of you.



I sleep with women

on couches, anti-depressants.

I dream of sleep.



You ask if I’m Yaqui.

I want to say, No, but

I’m aqui for you.



I ask if you think

of me. You say, Always always.

My love doubles.



You said, All I ask

is that you save me a piece

of your heart’s real estate.



I said I would, but

feared, secretly, that you’d build

an amusement park.


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One thought on “Haiku for Adulthood: Self-flagellation edition

  • Michael L. Moore

    Oh, Anna. Sometimes I laugh, often I cry, always I look forward to your next haiku. Once again, you conquer. I can’t find words to express how 261 makes me feel.

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