Back from retirement (for a day)

F train clusterfuck
No room for your ass in this
Human Tetris game

The End...?

I have a few things to say:

1. I love when campy horror movies like Manos: The Hands of Fate close with "The End...?" It implies that in the future, yet another innocent family may be hoodwinked into Manos' creepy split-level house, only to find themselves enslaved by a Freddie Mercury look-alike in a caftan and his harem. I'm ending this blog the same way, because who knows? Maybe I'm not quite ready to call it quits. Maybe I'll have some more haiku to post one of these days. Thinking in 5-7-5 is a tough habit to break.

2. I know this blog never attained astonishing popularity. Let's face it -- if you've made it this far, there's a good chance you're related to me. Thanks for staying with me through my haiku journey. Thanks for reading, commenting, and encouraging. If you have enjoyed my writing, please send some friends my way. If you are stumbling upon this blog for the first time today by googling "subway body language" or "Chuckie sighting" (I am intensely proud that my blog features prominently in both search results) then by all means, go back to the beginning and experience the full adventure.

3. Do you have a favorite haiku? I would love to hear about why you like it and/or what it means to you. You can either comment on this post, or the original haiku posting, or email me at lifein575@gmail.com.

I leave you with two closing bonus haiku:

Were it not for my
Dear family and friends, my
Words would have no wings

and


With great affection
For you my faithful readers
We shall close this book

Very fondly,
FiveSevenFive

Day 365: Things Get Real

Two house coat-clad crones
Scream and shout and throw wet clothes
In our laundry room

They were screaming in Russian, but I think it was about dryer rights.

Day 364: Downpour

Midtown thunderstorm
Lightning forks reflected in
Skyscraper windows

Day 363: A startling confession from a stranger

The guy smiles and says
"I'm just as behind as you
On my New Yorkers"

I was perusing the issue from the first week of April on the subway platform. I didn't have the heart to admit that I am actually backlogged to late January. Truthfully, the New Yorker is too smart for me. The articles are usually about 10 pages long. I lose interest in Callista Gingrich after 2 pages, TOPS. I mostly just read the cartoons.

Also, that might have been the New York-iest pickup line ever.

Day 362: Semantics

It's called a sidewalk
Not a side-dawdle-and-gawk
Or side-text-bumble

Day 361: I can barely keep my hands off of you

Gawping tourist teens
Smell like their prized souvenir
Is Axe Body Spray

It amazes me what people get excited about when they come to New York. These German kids had cleaned out the nearest Duane Reade. Sure, they had the requisite pile of bags from Macy's, but they were most excited about poking each other with nail polish pens.

I think the Axe commercials are so revolting that I am not going to post them here. That should give you a heads up if you go a-Googling.

Day 360: Reading

An old man devours
A Spanish dictionary
As if it's thrilling

Or maybe he just had Fifty Shades of Grey (a.k.a. that book everyone is pretending they are not reading on their Kindles) tucked between the covers.