What are all these freaking people doing here?
The yoga studio is crammed
like a New York subway car
at rush hour
in the rain
during a taxi strike!
For fuck sake can’t these people drink
to find peace?
I blame yoga pants going mass!
And Groupon! Deepak Chopra!
The fact that yoga works! And myself
for telling every one I know,
I came here to get into my own landscape.
Frolic through my happy space where
none of these people reside.
I‘m going to hire a yoga bouncer—big woman
with yoga buff arms and other-worldly
to tell people, “Nope, you’re not on the list.”
“Wow! So many smiling bodies!” the teacher says.
“Let’s make room for your fellow yogis!”
She’s all giddy ‘cause she thinks she’s the reason
for the crowd.
Oh look at me I’m a chakra rock star!
(Mental note: tell the bouncer, “the teacher is not on
My inner guru says either go or go
with the flow.
So I fold my mat in half.
I make room.
I do the entire class on half the mat.
Not only that; I use only a part
of that part.
My Chair is a toad stool.
My Boat sails an ocean of a sweat droplet.
My Pigeon rests on the edge
of the thinnest ledge of my mat.
In Savasana I stretch out full
length on one single inch.
I create endless space on half my mat.
(Mental note: cancel the bouncer.)
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Editor: Catherine Monkman
Photo: David McSpadden/Flickr
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