with body aches
with pillows, bright lights
with wondering if you can really call this meditation,
it feels like driving on the 405.
Sitting and waiting
not moving, not running, not doing anything.
and making to do lists,
redecorating the kitchen,
writing an email to Soma,
did she get stood up on Valentine’s day or not?
Sitting and forgetting, and forgetting, and wanting to forget.
The song “You can’t always get what you want”
I hate the Rolling Stones
“Hold the pickles, hold the Lettuce, Special Orders don’t Upset Us, All we ask is that you let us serve it your way”.
from a young age.
into old age.
Sitting from habit, it’s good for you, everyone says so.
Sitting from doctor’s orders
He does not know what other anti-depressants,
anti-anxiety, painkiller, sleeping pills to give you.
over a break up.
over the summer
over the high holidays, the trip to Kenya,
over the river and through the woods.
to get through forty minutes because your lower back and knees scream like glass lodged in your bones.
“Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders don’t upset us.”
when your sister hanged herself from the second story balcony in San Francisco
with a bed sheet and rosary around her neck.
Sitting out this life.
Sitting through past lives,
through car alarms, erotica, menopause, cancer,
through your early morning meeting with the Board of Directors
because the volume of the Insight Timer Chime on your new Samsung Galaxy phone was turned off.
Sitting into this life
while you sit with the intention to meditate