“Three Young Drug Runners”

three young drug runners

tees, shorts and flip-flops roar by

on loud* mini-bikes**


*(Could not shoe-horn “quick” behind “loud.”  I suspect the problem is self-correcting: should – and I suspect I am – be right about the trio’s profession, soon enough their under-age obviousness will attract appropriate attention; soon enough their attire will find fault with asphalt’s unyielding nature; soon enough their chance to swim deep into the genepool will go poof! when their small steel – mostly plastic – toy chargers take issue with a ton-n-a-half of pickup truck.)


**(I have yet to work out the Tanka lines for this haiku: the candidates are: 1.) “ne oil-slick paatch of brick street” and 2.) “or  a distracted driver”. See what I mean.  Not nearly gritty enough.)

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