Micro Heart Attacks Because
I’d gamble my last buck, he said, that she’s got a
field guide stashed in that backpack. We couldn’t help
but overhear her whiny monologue about hummingbirds.
“They’re dropping from the sky, every last one of them
– heart attacks.” Her pinch-nosed vegetarian friend
(it was previously established that her pale mousy
tablemate is a militant vegetarian) asks if they are
micro heart attacks because the birds are so small.
“Not to them! It’s obviously massive.” This is one of
those days where nothing constructive will be
accomplished. I’ve placed life on hold – even my cell
phone message says: I’m currently in stasis mode,
leave your message after you hear the Jimi Hendrix
guitar riff and I’ll call back after I re-emerge. My
friend turns his sweaty flushed face to me and says:
I’m fast approaching the point. O.K. let’s scoot, I
say, as I quickly cap my fountain pen and close my
notebook. For my friend, the point is explosive – a
pivot between control and maximum aggravation. We
leave. Faster than a hummingbird dropping from a
nectar feeder.
nervous twitch
the smell of cheap cologne
fills the small office
* Jeffrey Winke is a haiku/haibun poet and public relations counselor. Recent publications include That Smirking Face, a haiku-art broadside collaboration with Matt Cipov (Milwaukee: Distant Thunder Press, 2008) and PR Idea Book: 50 Proven Tools That Really Work (Denver: Outskirts Press, 2006). www.jeffwinke.com
