Day 77: A Culinary Conundrum

Special at Foodtown
Get your free Passover ham!
Goes great with matzoh

(I would have expected a grocery store in Brooklyn to be a little more informed about these things.)

Day 76: Brooklyn is for lovers

Chilly fingers touch
Eyes meet as car alarms play
A Brooklyn love song

(For E, who makes me giddy.)

Day 75: Subway psychology 101: body language

Fine, I guess I'll stand
Heaven forbid you should stop
Airing out your junk

(You want to know how to really freak men out? Wedge yourself into the space between two junk-airing offenders on a crowded train. They will try to squeeze you out by splaying their legs even wider, but don't back down. Over the course of a few stops, assume typical male subway posture. Be patient. Don't rush this, or you'll risk losing the element of surprise. Your hard work will be rewarded when, in an obvious panic, both men decide they'd rather stand than sit next to a crazy gender-bender with the gall to let her knee touch theirs.)

Day 74: A point of some pride

From 14th to Jay
Touching nothing but the floor
It's all in the knees

(Trust me, if touching the subway floor were not a requirement of gravity, I wouldn't touch it either.)

Day 73: so much for spring

We'll think of today
When our air conditioner
Breaks in mid-August

(Last weekend I was basking in the sun in the Park, along with everyone else in the borough. Why is it in the 30s now?)

Day 72: F is for Fail

The only thing worse
Than riding on the F train
Is waiting for it

(More than two full hours to travel 12 miles? Really? Notable moments: waiting a total of 60 minutes for assorted trains to come, my intrepid boyfriend offering a guy money to stop playing a mash-up of Hava Nagila and Take Me Out to the Ballgame on an electric mini-keyboard, and 25 stops worth of puffy-drunk asshats shouting "Woooooo! WOOOOO!")

From a commuting flight attendant

You can never tell
Inside the Holland Tunnel
If it's day or night


(I've always thought the Holland and Lincoln Tunnels were kind of terrifying--and I've only gone through them as a passenger.)

Day 71: Too close for comfort

I am close enough
To your aged ear to pluck
A gray souvenir

Day 70: it must be something in the decaf soy lattes

Or the tax bracket.

Step aside, Plain Jane
Everyone good-looking gets
Off at Seventh Ave

(At least that means I'll get a seat.)

Day 69: I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want

For you to buy better headphones.

Thank you for sharing
Your lousy taste in music
With this entire car

(Don't worry, Mr. Middle-Aged Spice Girls Fan. Your secret is safe with us.)

Day 68: ...or it could be that I'm just old and unfashionable

You may think you're hot
But your pleather minidress
Screams "I'm from Jersey!"

(Nothing says "classy" like a hot pink rubber dress and a Snooki bouffant.)

Day 67: Bonsais, Magnolias, and (Fertile) Myrtles

Am I the only
Woman in this whole borough
That isn't pregnant?

(I went to the Botanic Garden on a Sunday, then walked home through the park. Enough said.)

Day 66: unpleasant memories

And upon my worst
Sworn enemy from high school
I shall wish bedbugs


(Those subway ads for mattress covers make my skin crawl. Almost two years after an infestation left me between apartments for two months, sometimes I still need to move to a different car rather than face pictures of enormous bedbugs.)

From Someone Who Didn't See Anything, Anywhere, obviously

A long, grey snakeskin
Outside the mafia bar
It appears empty

(The awesomeness of this haiku speaks for itself.)

Day 65: At least he didn't fart

You're young and robust
Going to the second floor?
Take the effing stairs

(If you're like me, you work on an upper floor of one of those
fabulous Cold War-era government buildings that was never meant to
accommodate as much elevator traffic in a day as it sees in an hour.
After waiting for 15 minutes for an elevator that's apparently powered
by a hamster in a wheel, I don't understand why the strapping young
lad who waited next to me disembarks at the second floor. And yes, I
know that not all disabilities are readily apparent. I'm not
completely heartless.)

Day 64: One of this city's great mysteries (and small annoyances)

You stand motionless
Escalator traffic jams
Forming in your wake

(Why, oh why, in a city where everyone is in a hurry, do people choose
to block the entire escalator during rush hour? It's not that I'm
eager to get to work, it's that I'm looking forward to not having my
face in this stranger's ass.)

From Sara in Brooklyn: SHE's not afraid to ask the tough questions

doc bronner's mint soap:
invigorates for sure, but
does it get me clean?

(Sara: the religious rants on the Dr. Bronner's bottle amuse/baffle me so much that its cleaning power has become secondary.)

Day 63: sometimes it's better not to ask questions

Old man with shovel
Buries secrets underneath
A lone maple tree

(No, I don't know what he was burying. All I know is that when you see an elderly man digging a hole under a tree in the little scrap of fenced-in grass near your subway stop, at dusk, you keep walking. Then you go home and let your imagination run away with you.)

Day 62: Re-entry Shock

After vacation
Returning to New York is
Like a cold shower

From Anonymous, Somewhere in Canada

Piles of tiny clothes
Lay unworn in unused cribs.
Third time's the charm, right?

(If you have a moment, please send some positive thoughts toward the Great White North.)

Day 56: going on hiatus (briefly)

Starting tomorrow:
A much-needed vacation!
Back in a few days

Don't worry, I'm sure I'll come up with at least 3 snarky haikus about the subway ride to the airport and another 12 about the TSA.

From Erik, Brooklyn

A suspicious eye
Cast at the gray birds above
Please don't poop on me

Day 55: clearing up some misconceptions about who's in charge around here

Between 9 and 5
This town is controlled by the
Nanny mafia

Day 54: welcoming a stranger back to town after a long winter

We rub our tired eyes
And stare at the strange bright orb
In an azure sky

Day 53

The love of a dog
Can be a sweet comfort in
A lonely city


If you're a New Yorker thinking of adopting a pet, might I suggest visiting a local pound or shelter? The following are just a few options for finding the new love of your life:


Sean Casey Animal Rescue Center (Brooklyn, NY)
Bideawee (New York, NY)
ASPCA-NYC (New York, NY)

Day 52: What's cookin'?

Taco night on two
Smells like brownies on five and
Pierogis on six

(Ah, the scents of a Brooklyn apartment building. Ours is a melange of multicultural food aromas, often delicious, and only occasionally ruined by the resident chain-smoker or some malodorous borscht.)

Day 51

Tempers are rising
As the turf wars escalate
Between geese and swans

(Seriously, the lake at Prospect Park is a feather-strewn, poop-laden battlefield.)

Day 50

That bird had a plan
I swear that it winked as it
Crapped on your shoulder

(Although my head is an inexplicable pigeon magnet, I've had pretty good luck avoiding their business ends. Unfortunately, my intrepid boyfriend was not so lucky yesterday. He was the victim of a completely premeditated pigeon-shitting.)

Day 50: "stand clear of the closing doors, please"

She runs on thin legs
Turns sideways, then reappears
In the subway car

(The doors were almost closed. The skinny girl was on the platform, and then she was suddenly in the car. It was like magic. The rest of us on the platform just looked at each other like, "how did she do that?")

Day 49

"Pretty today!" smiles
The sweet lady from downstairs
Who just made my day

Day 48

A breath of spring air
Dances down the street with a
Garbage day chaser