Haiku

Melissa and I went to Starbucks today and did some freewritin', so here ye are. The beginning word was 'haiku'.

***

I taste my coffee.
Its vanilla and sugar
mixed into dessert.

***

I write haikus in the clues of my crossword puzzles. Most of the readers don't even know what a haiku is and most of them don't do the crosswords. So I guess you could safely say that only old people sitting in their rocking chairs and stuffy over-decorated living rooms read my poetry.

In Tempton, Missouri, working for "The Newspaper" is not a big deal. Somebody has to do it- just like somebody has to write the crossword puzzles that nobody but Aunt Betty and Grandma Martha do.

I'm not complaining. If I didn't like Tempton, I could be in New York in two hours. My brother has a plane three minutes out of Tempton. But the truth is, I like this place. I like it's quiet naivete and it's little scandals and mocking birds in the mornings.

One quiet day, I got home from work, took the semi-winding road up to my front door and opened the mailbox to a surprise- an official looking letter among the usual advertisements and family greetings.

With a finger, I slit open the letter and unfolded the single sheet of paper inside. It said only this:

We like your haikus.
Come to New York and work here.
The Times welcomes you.

***

Ta-Da. (I actually have no idea if there is a Tempton, Missouri... so yeah).