I am kind of feeling inspired today. Once, I owned a coffee mug that inspired me to write a haiku. I wonder if I could be a haiku master. I just had that thought just now. Literally like a second ago. If I write a haiku everyday for 10 years, will I be a master? What does it mean to be a master of anything? I wonder: if I speak only in haikus, would anyone notice? Probably not. But this afternoon I tried to do just this. I said to Dad:
"This winter is hard
because it has snowed, snowed, snowed--
No snow is a dream."
He said, "Yes, son. Snow, it sucks the life out of you."
I ordered a coffee at the coffee shop and said:
"I'll have a coffee
no room for milk pretty please.
For here, not to go. "
And, I waited for the mailman to say:
"Hello, thank you sir.
You brought me some mail I see.
Goody, goody, thanks!"
The mailman seemed suspicious. And I was suspicious of the mailman.
There was nothing exciting in the mail, but before I could think of another haiku, the mailman had moved on to the next house.
This post wasn't really a post, but it was. It was a post, just for you, ok?
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