I was a freelance computer consultant in Southern California in the late nineties. I covered a territory from Irvine to Oxnard. (For non-locals, that’s a BIG stretch.) I coped by composing haiku and sending them to friends as text messages from my cell phone. These are some of them — I’m still looking for others.
Traffic stalled.
The mind wanders to green fields.
I move 20 feet.
White pickup in front
Sign says “Corrosion Fixer.”
Contemplate for hours.
Driving past a train
Nasty tank cars; toxic spills.
Hobos have it tough.
Vanity License
Essence captured in metal
Not very likely
Inflatable things
Car dealer’s giant baby
Eye-catching but dumb
Ninety miles an hour
Almost clipped my fender
Wish there were a cop
Small bedroom window
seven feet from the freeway.
Somebody lives there?
So many SUVs.
An army of 4-wheel drive.
The freeway ain’t dirt.
Stop your damn honking.
You want me to levitate?
I can’t go faster.
Traffic @ dead stop
Relaxation technique not working
“Happy place” my ass.