hitchhiking to the end of my life
every morning i put my thumb out and catch a ride to whatever comes next. it has become so natural that it is just done without thinking. if you keep the paper blank the words will just appear when they are ready. sounds easy doesnt it. eighty six thousand four hundred seconds to the end of the day. what could go wrong.
on the way home
ten thousand bugs
die on my windshield
Most likely will never be published!
Reblogged this on Frank J. Tassone and commented:
#Haiku Happenings #2: Michael Rehling’s #haibun 67!
How do you tell a happy motorcyclist?
{By the bugs on his teeth!}