The Heavenly Air of His Words
The bald skinny guru is preaching serenity.
I alone
(because of my constantly revved-up synapses
and mugs of Columbian coffee),
can hear the angry kamikaze bee raging in his skull.
Only I see that gory grub work of his grinding teeth
others mistake for a smile.
The studio audience is rapt.
A young women to my right tries to sit in the lotus position
only managing to topple into my lap.
Parts of me are beginning to relax,
but not the warm sensation left over my crotch.
My face reveals nothing but the intent meditative pose
of a holy man.
I am beginning to understand;
this is not a case of fake it until you make it,
it’s a fake forever life we are all leading,
and the skinny guru knows this -
this I believe is his greatest teaching.
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