Sander Zulauf

Haiku from Bashō in America

it takes strong will
   and great courage to live
       at peace and apart

A Dream or Two

    I.    The Door Bell Rings.

Then rings again.
Being self-quarantined and paranoid
I don’t do anything. I hear
“Open the door, asshole.”
My friend Candee from Brooklyn
Arrives in her black hooded winter coat
And needs desperately the bathroom.
I welcome her in, take her black coat
And hang it up. Then she takes off
A beige coat and needs me to hang it up.
I do this and remember Madeline saying
“Don’t let anybody in the house
Ever again.” I panic. Here she is
From Epidemic Central
And I’ve let her in.
Then I think No, it’s Not Candee Kane,
It’s the Angel of Death
Come for me. If only I had listened
To Madeline.

   II.    The Celebrities

The black sedan pulls up.
A Mercury. A 1957 Mercury
With its signature inverted automatic
Back window, clear glass.
Eight people pile out.
Andy says “Sandy,
We’re so glad to see you.
Thanks for all you did for us.”
Out steps John Lennon,
Fat now, wearing a pink linen
Suit. And skinny Yoko wearing
A black fedora and cape. And Paul,
Who gives me a big hug
And asks “How’s your dad doing?”
And I say “He’s passed, but doing fine.”
George waves at me, smiling bright as the sun.
Ringo nods at me, his white bangs shiver.
He says “Dig it, dunno.”
And a woman there I don’t know
With a little girl who’s crying.
I catch her tears in a cup.

Sander Zulauf’s recent books include The Poets of New Jersey (Jersey Shore), Where Time Goes (Dryad), and  Bashō in America (Eric Hoffer Award Winner, and an iUniverse Rising Star).  He is editor emeritus of the Journal of New Jersey Poets, and a County College of Morris professor emeritus of English and creative writing.

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