Morning Surf

I tried turning one of my old short stories into free verse. It didn't come out like I'd hoped, but I still like the sentiment:

"Morning Surf"

The sun climbs high,
On water-kissed shoulders,

As brown hands dip,
Into the dawn.

There's no better waking,
Than in a tumbling tunnel of breaking glass.

A few haiku.

Frankenstein monster,
Nuts, bolts...the fundamentals.
What a thinking cap!

We have our iPods,
And these opposable thumbs,
But are still beastly.

Ketchup and noodles,
Twenty minutes on the stove,
Ghetto spaghetti.

Enough haiku, dude.
Give it a rest, already.
You're not that clever.