A Quarterly Journal of Contemporary English Language Haibun
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March 2008, vol 4 no 1

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Bob Lucky



This is the last day I have to drive down this road before I move. And I go up and down it several times running last minute errands, nodding here and there to say goodbye to people I see everyday but don’t really know. The road through the village is about one-truck wide. Everything crowds the edge of the road – the houses, the bar, the bicycle repair shop, crouching men …

muggy evening
the glow of cigarettes
at the bus stop