Box Office Haiku

It’s not a hate crime

That there’s no discount for you.

Glibness becomes you.

“It’s your Zolo Book!
Z! O! L! O! Oh. Wait. That’s
Two Thousand and Ten.”

Old man on the phone,
You know you don’t like to call.
But your wife is pissed.

Don’t wink at me, creep.
Do not grab my bum, either.
You are my usher.

Trail of glitter leads
up the aisle – fairies? No,
fraus in sparkly shirts.

no need to admire
I do this job everyday.
keep it in your pants.

My new phobia:
Tiny women in large groups
Who each buy their own.

His mouth is open,
As he chews, crumbs coat my desk.
My screams are silent.

Some parts of her
Are seventy-seven years old.
Others are newer.

You say your mother
Is trapped in the john? Again?
Consider diapers.