daily sun shone hot
bright summer blue in London
back to gray today

Who walks there darkly

Can it be Janus, his clock out of time?

No. Janus never was hooded,
His need to straddle past and soon
Precluded such frippery.

But who is this person and what the tool?
A farmer monk on his way to market?

I bid thee Good Day Sir.
Tell me your news.

Let me see your face.

My God.  It is Death with his scythe
And who is this other, your double in black?

Your  tallyman with his knife and stick.

Happily adrift
at Carnival time
buffeted by babes
and tycoons in wine
I was brought up all standing
by a voice from the blue
that solicited quite rudely

Haiku for you?

Papa she cries
underdog underdog
So
I
conscripted
ready
and at
the exact split second
my hands against her ****
I tense
and run
and push her
and up
and up
high on the arc of the swing

Underdog?

tints of irony
shade the illuminescence
of the doge's death

When is the game over?
When the man dies?
When the first born is a girl?
At the end of the first meal without salt?
When the woman dies?
At sunset?
At the late time of night when the spirit ebbs?
When his one good joke is repeated too often?
When his son is killed by friendly fire?
When the potatoes are blighted?
At the end of high school football stardom?
When rejected by a prom date?
When destituted by frivolous litigation
Destituted by insufficient health insurance?

When caught cheating?
At cards?
In adultery?
In a resume?
By the IRS

When caught?
In a sting?
Ten most wanted?
Interpol?

When I finish my drink?
When I empty my wallet?

It comes from the heart, he said,
Really!

Really? she said,
one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

Her mouth seconded this opinion,
a firm, tight  line.

She turned away,
this encounter over.

Game. Set and Match