Day 123: Taking my life in my hands twice a day

Yes, you drive a car
That makes you better than me
Please run me over

(Various [financial] circumstances have led to my becoming a bicycle commuter. If you believe the NYC Bike Month posters that you see on the subway, you may think that I sail off to work in a pristine white sundress that is magically immune to both bicycle grease and perspiration. Other common misconceptions: that bike lanes are safe, that Brooklyn is flat, that motorists are not secretly trying to kill me, and that my commute is "refreshing."

Now, I know that many cyclists in this town are real ass-holes who refuse to obey traffic laws. I am not one of them. And even if I were, is that any excuse to yell at me after you've doored me in the bike lane? Or to drop your cigarette ashes onto my arm at a stop light?)

(Oh, crap. I just remembered that my mom reads this. Hi Mom. I'm fine. Really.)

Day 122: shouts and murmurs

An oddly young man
Shouting bible verses to
The apathetic

(We were able to here him on the sixth floor of the building where I work. When I left at the end of the day, I was expecting the usual type: an elderly, bearded zealot with a bible and a bag of cans. I was surprised to see a very young man -- probably no more than seventeen -- anxiously shouting about god to everyone within earshot. Needless to say, we avoided him. It's just what you do.)

Day 121

Pre-teen muggers say
"Hey man! Give us your wallet!"
But the man just laughs

(This actually happened to Intrepid Boyfriend's dad in Washington Square a few years back. It makes a good companion story to the one about a coworker's friend who was held up in the lobby of his apartment building by a bunch of 8-year-olds with switchblades.)

Day 120: advice from the unfashionable

My dear young lady:
Tights do not an outfit make
You forgot your skirt

(In the interest of full disclosure, I offer the following information:
1. I am not fashionable
2. I understand that I'm starting to sound more and more like a senior citizen
3. I know I've kvetched about this before

However, tights are not pants. I don't think there's a valid argument to the contrary. I get that leggings are comfortable and insanely popular, but are they really office attire? Oh, and if I can see your control top, your outfit is missing at least one important element.)

Day 119: Channeling my inner old person

Skateboarders outside
This could be my chance to yell
"Hey! Get off my lawn!"

(I've promised Intrepid Boyfriend that I won't do it. They really don't bother me very much, but when else will I have the opportunity?)

Day 118: Funny, they don't mention that on their website...

Fancy new hotel
Complete with scenic view of
The holding center

(That's right, for a mere $315 a night, you can stay in a room that overlooks a real live jail! I guess that's what they mean when they say the hotel was "conceived to create an authentic travel experience integrated into the fabric of the local landscape.")

Day 117: Unsolicited advice

Hey falafel guy
Put on a chest hairnet or
Button up your shirt

(On a humorous side note, my computer thinks that I meant to say "Falstaff.")

Day 116: And that's the news from Brooklyn...

The adults are cute
The babies are numerous
And the dogs are fat

(I wonder if Garrison Keillor has ever made it out to BK?)

Day 115: Subway Psychology 301: You're not as sly as you think

You pretend to text
While photographing our breasts
But no one is fooled

(How stupid do you think we are?)

Day 114

Sometimes less is more
That's easy to forget when
You live around here

Day 113: Subterranean Meteorology

On this dreary day
The rain falls on Nevins Street
Even underground

(The subway doors opened on a chilly cascade, drizzling from the ceiling and creating slippery pools on the platform.)

Day 112: Anonymous advice

"Trust your struggles" says
The graffiti on the wall
Sounds like good advice

(This beautiful cursive graffiti appeared on a brick wall near my subway stop. I've been going through a rough time lately, and I'm just about to the point where I start taking life advice from brick walls.)

Day 111

Dawn breaks vibrantly
On another piss-drenched day
In the Big Apple

(Maybe I should start a category for bodily functions. They seem to turn up in my haiku with alarming frequency.)

Day 110: A Bardian haiku

Just like Shakespeare said
So shows a snow white pigeon
Trooping with the grays

(Okay, so maybe he was talking about doves. But it's pretty close. I saw a pure white pigeon scavenging for bread crumbs with its friends in the park, and I immediately thought of the scene where Romeo and Juliet meet. Because I'm crazy.)

Day 109

Are you kidding me?
No one offers a seat to
A man with one leg


(Really, New York? Really?)

Day 108

An old man dozes
On his stoop to the sounds of
Radio baseball

(Sometimes the haiku is enough, and I don't need to write anything else.)

Day 107: you take the good with the bad

On this flawless day
I will curse the pollen count
Between my sneezes

Day 106: an age-old question

Popsicle or blood?
Sticky red mystery stains
On the subway floor

(I think it was popsicle. I hope it was popsicle.)

Day 105: Mope.

Ramen for dinner
Haiku doesn't pay the bills
I need a book deal

Day 104: They probably know just how much I talk to the cat

Are they fighting or
Does it just sound that way since
It's all in Russian?

(It's impossible to tell whether our elderly neighbors are scolding each other about something or declaring their undying love. A Ukrainian friend assures me that it would probably sound the same either way.)

Day 103: Grim defeat

Sweet honeysuckle
Brutally weed-whacked by an
MTA butcher

(It was horrible. Intrepid Boyfriend and I saw the carnage on our way to the subway. The trunk is still twisted around the fence, but all of the branches, buds, and leaves are gone. It was like seeing a skeleton. I've been walking past the honeysuckle almost every day for a few years now, marveling at its ability to thrive in less than ideal conditions [i.e. rooted in a scrap of NYC dirt and wrapped around an MTA fence]. I don't blame the workers. I'm sure it just looked like a weed to them.)

Day 102: the lilacs aren't the only thing ahead of schedule

Early start this year
New York smells like hot dog pee
And it's only May

(Canines, not frankfurters. On an unseasonably warm day like today [well over 80 degrees] the pungent aroma of sun-baked dog urine hits you like a ton of bricks. It's one of the things you forget about when you're knee-deep in February and waxing nostalgic about summer days.)

Day 101: driven to distraction by spring

Enveloped in the
Sweet scent of lilacs, and all
Troubles forgotten

(At risk of becoming an advertisement for the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, the lilacs are exquisite this year. Sure, I should have been studying for my last set of law school exams EVER, but the garden was calling my name.)