Guest Slapper of the Month IV

Tania of Brain Trapped in Girl's Body took part in NaNoWriMo last year and wrote over 50,000 words in 30 days (in between waxing lyrical about rare vintage perfumes – her other passion) so my little assignment must have been child's play for her. Here's her Slap:


The Commuter's Slaphappy Haiku

In response to Bela's invitation to be her guest slapper for the month of May, I offer you this brief percussive piece: small slaps delivered on my way to work.
—Tania

*

Train in the station:
SWIPE AGAIN AT THIS TURNSTILE.
Were tokens so bad?

*

Thump of busker's drums
marshals citizens to war:
no dollar for you.

*

Young nonchalant man
embracing the subway pole,
how can I hold on?

*

The perfume you wear:
white flowers pile close like snow.
Next time put on less.

*

The small, tinny cry
of your headphone discothèque—
aren't you embarrassed?

*

Poor immigrant man
sells "battery, one dollar!"
Of course, it's worth less.

*

It's true man must eat;
fried chicken is delicious.
Just not on the train.

*

Bright as a rainbow,
Dr. Z's fruit acid peels.
Why do I read this?

*

Small mouse trapped among
the stampeding elephants.
Don't you see me here?

*

Single salmon fights
downstairs, blocking upstairs hordes:
You could wait a sec.

*

Impatient lady,
Jostling like trash in the tides,
You're not important.

*

Slow elevator:
Yes, I find it annoying.
Do not talk to me.