Four Stanza Haiku

Dear mister
I am not your girl, your sister,
so leave off;

go and buy
another special someone
the price of bed.

Throw me twenty
just don't expect to see
any panty.

I'm not tall
or skinny, I'm none too blonde,
but I'm here--
serving beer.

The Hunt

Yes ma’am I’m hard

cut from stone, hard

worker and smart too.

You want me

to lick table clean?

Sure sure, can do.

Yes I go to college

and leave

with Honors, ivy leaf.

wrote many papers,

kissed limestone

statues of tall tall men.

Not as pretty as you!

but I will work for you,

sure, sure, for not much.

I know how to clean

the deep fry

and write you poems

for appetizer, try one.

Hello? Hi it’s me

again, I called last week

remember me

yes, I know you,

the sushi house.

Oh I eat sushi so much,

can roll a mean one,

and drink 10 sake box.

Monday, eight-fifteen?

At Whom It Should Concern

in Human Resources:

I would make great

typist and phone-talker.

I phone talk all the time!

Wait, don’t go!

not ladyfriend talk,

but a phone professional

I am. Ps and Qs are best

quality that I keep

in my pockets, 

for you the boss to use

his or her own

tidy hankerchief. Here it is!

That is how loyal I would be

for you

at your great big company

that does that one marketing thing

I’m so curious about.

Tell me, please, more about you,

what it is exactly that you do.

Hi, I call you back?

I spilled rice and beans

in my lap.

Ooh, lookee here,

I found your number on the job board

at 7^th and West.

Walk the dog

clean the toilet

soft wipe of ass?

yes, please, ma’am,

this I want more of.

I will be the best worker

you find, hands down. 

Sure, let me know

I would love to hear from you

and here is my number, it's:

Loose Villanelle.

Watching you watch me, I make tea.

I fade out of sight, your anchor

behind the door. You couldn’t see,

but heard the screams of water

molecules turned angry vapor

screaming at me making tea.

Sometimes we drag on the floor.

Other days go on with toil and labor

behind a door we cannot see.

Here pages turn. Clocks stop. Hearts slow.

And sometimes we are boring:

sitting in chairs, screaming, and making tea.

Grueling on we grind away

at each page, the same one read yesterday,

the day before, and the one we didn’t see.

Please don’t go when you expire,

your life the flowers I closed

between a book to dry, off-white and fair.

I want to watch you watching me

from behind the door.

I want to have you to see.