Try to be in a haiku
Blossom blows, timeless as Basho,
over the waiting-room roof.
The arrivals display is obdurate.
A lie says on time with the certainty
of a stuck clock.
A man takes the metal steps
two-at-a-time in alarm.
He believes he still has a train
to catch but he’s trapped
We interrogate our phones.
In several separate minds,
tricksters try to conjure a train.
A gust rolls masses of pink petals
onto the line.