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“Not achoo…haiku…Japanese poetry.”
“Feel the shadow of wet searching fingers. Egret hears no sound.”
“What?”
“It’s a haiku to fog, Starsky.”
“A what?”
“Haiku…haiku.”
“Bless you.”
“Not achoo…haiku…Japanese poetry.”
“Doesn’t rhyme.”
“It’s not supposed to rhyme…it paints a picture.”
“Of someone who can’t write poetry. There once was a girl named Jill, who swallowed an atomic pill…”
“That’s a limerick., Starsk.”
“The doctor said cough and the pill went off and they found her head in Brazil. Poetry…see?”
“Not really.”
“Hey, at least my poem makes more sense than yours. Who writes about a deaf bird, anyway?”
Fins
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