The new guy next to me seems nice.
Warm, friendly—not creepy.
Wears a T-shirt and ordinary running shorts,
not the baggy ones that look like culottes,
not the tight black kind which say, “Notice my ass.”
No. There is something real regular about him.
He has no trouble with any pose:
Eagle, Plow, Boat, Fish.
Smiles in Child’s pose.
Spends extra time in Prayer Pose.
Wrinkles his nose in Warrior I and Warrior II
but does it perfectly: strong and balanced.
He holds Plank pose as long as the teacher,
the rest of us going down like dying daffodils.
I think, “Dude, this is not a competition!”
But he stays strong, no effort.
He sits Full Lotus during meditation.
Breathing Hum/Sa without moving.
Breathing Light/Love without strain.
Breathing You/Me/We without contradiction.
He fails at one pose only: Corpse.
He keeps getting up.
After class we bring our hands to our hearts,
bow to one another and say,
“Namaste.”
The Divine in me salutes the Divine in you.
He really means it.
