Fridays
On Friday morning he practices the sun salute,
poses in Warrior I, II, and III and then some simple
twists before disappearing into corpse and yoga nidra.
He stays in a trance for weeks, travels with turkey hawks,
only to return to cross-legged meditation and some
clarity.
She stops for flowers and some essentials, then comes
home to straighten and clean, she is a tyrant asserting
ownership, this is Friday. She says, ?We?ll have a date
at 3, ok?? He is flattered and delighted, always says,
?Of course, at 3 ?? There is no conversation, just
agreement.
Later she says, ?The yoga has made you stronger. I
like that.? He smiles; he has always been a hawk,
but age has dispensed with illusion.