me in the piazza

I'm a writer, publishing both as SJ Rozan and, with Carlos Dews, as Sam Cabot. (I'm Sam, he's Cabot.) Here you can find links to my almost-daily blog posts, including the Saturday haiku I've been doing for years. BUT the blog itself has moved to my website. If you go on over there you can subscribe and you'll never miss a post. (Miss a post! A scary thought!) Also, I'll be teaching a writing workshop in Italy this summer -- come join us!
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A sentiment with which I concur

Twas the day after new year's and all through the gym,
Not a locker was empty for her or for him.
The sneakers were laced up on ankles with strength
In hopes that the jogging would be long in length.
The members were lifting all snug on their benches
With visions of workouts that might make them menches.
My buddy in tee shirt and I in my shorts
Had just settled into some serious sports
When from the entry arose such a ruckus
You'd think Martians had come, from the planet to pluck us.
Away to the glass wall I flew in a hurry
To see through it to find out the source of the flurry.
The sunshine a-gleam on the glass canopy
Showed me the sight that I'd raced there to see:
A horde of new people, with new resolutions
Determined to join our New York institution.
Over-eating and -drinking the whole season through
They'd decided that now they would try something new:
To run, and pump iron, not sit at the telly
And slim down that round face and belly of jelly.
So they'd come to the Y. But without any doubt,
The front desk had run out of forms to fill out.
The manager stepped to the lobby and paled,
Fearing a riot, and all would be jailed.
Then from the office burst out with a bound
The athletic director -- new forms had been found!
Everyone sat down with paper and pen
To fill out their info and then hand it in.
Then, processed and photoed, their first month's dough spent,
Off to the weight room and treadmills they went,
And I heard them exclaim, ere they started to sweat,
"Happy new year to all, may it be the best yet!"

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