MY RETURN TO HAIKU

     After my retirement from the world of business I decided to return to my roots, creatively speaking. My colleagues on Wall Street never would have guessed it, but in college I was an English major, and in fact, poetry was my stock in trade. Specifically, haiku.

     So I put my Armanis in mothballs, donned a pair of Levis and sat down at my computer to write about, what else, love and longing. It's what I used to write about in my youth, so I thought I'd pick up where I left off. As they would say on Wall Street, let's run this haiku up the flagpole and see who salutes it!

     First, I realized I couldn't remember if a haiku started with a line containing five syllables or seven. So I Googled it. Wikipedia confirmed that the structure was a line of five syllables, then seven, then five. Okay then!

     Second problem: Do you need to be in love to write about it? After four divorces, maybe I was too jaded to write about love and/or longing. 

     I decided to just let things flow and see what came out. I poured myself a glass of wine and stared at the screen. I couldn't think of a title. Then I remembered that haiku don't have titles. Lucky break! After several glasses of wine I loosened up enough to write my first haiku in many decades:

Thank you for the date

You are much younger than I

Read me the menu

     Wow. Not exactly like my old stuff. Maybe haiku is a young man's game, I thought. No, it's anybody's game, by God! 

     That was several hours ago, and I think I've finally found my voice (and a third bottle of wine). It's not the same voice I had when I was twenty. That callow voice is gone, but I like to think it has been replaced by a wise, mature voice, reflecting "where I'm at today, man."

     Enjoy.

My upper denture

So sad it is to lose you

In my Farina

Pardon me young man

Could you direct me to the

Metamucil aisle?

I told Doctor Katz

My frequent urination

Is a stone bringdown

I read your e-mail

Blurry, blurry words of love

Hit "Make text bigger"

Sigmoidoscopy

Just a hop, skip and jump to

colonoscopy

I count my age spots

But I forget the total

And soil my diaper

Whither has gone wood?

Blood pressure medication

Has kiiled erections

Love note in the mail?

Just a goddamn newsletter

From AARP 

What's so hip about

Hip replacement surgery

Eh, Doctor Douchebag?

Is this a bunyon?

I never knew it by name

Who knew I had one?

The answer my friend

Is a-blowin' in the wind

With my combover

I can't locate my

Invisible bifocals  

Oh, how ironic

I have the body

Of a twenty-five year-old

(In formaldehyde)

You leave my knees weak

And make me swoon at evening

Sweet sciatica!

May I have this dance?

That's not dancing, Mister, it's

Restless Legs Syndrome

Though shy, I show my

Gastroenterologist

My enlarged prostate

My naked body

What genius put a mirror

Facing the bathtub?

Jimmy, Tom and Sue

Are these my grandchildren's names?

Close enough for jazz

En route to Maine, my

Turn-signal has been on since

Key West, Florida

Am I dreaming or

Have I seen this episode

Of "Murder She Wrote"?