Here are a few more haiku derived from police blotter columns in small-town newspapers hither and yon. I only managed nine haiku this time; I generally try for ten, but the quality was dropping off and I decided to cut my losses.
As always, enjoy.
Her car was not lost.
Merely, one block over from
her misconception.
Long after midnight
they argued Armageddon
in the sleeping streets.
It came to them that
they could not find their way home
without their cell phone.
The intruders' thanks:
A twenty left behind on
the rumpled bedspread.
They have a town drunk.
The cops bust him every week.
It's not picturesque
He finished his soup,
went out for a drive and was
never seen again.
He and his dog took
a long walk through the back yards
of the neighborhood.
Cold day, hard times, and
a thief who stole nothing from
the store -- but firewood.
Her ex walked in and
rearranged her furniture.
There's a story there...
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