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i saw someone meditating in the steam room

at the princeton y last night. making the om

sound. trying hard to be so so so so so so

enlightened so fast so easy so simply by

coloring inside the ghost of a teacher’s lines.

if only this would turn off those popcorning

synapses. reveal the hidden key of zen

hidden so easily under a front door floormat.

and that’s the moment i smiled inside

the fog. enlightenment is so silly. and much

easier. but only after sixty years of trying

am i real enough to see the joke’s on me

i can’t go anywhere else but

the present tense. and only 

when i stop really stop trying. so, i guess

i don’t even know what i know anymore:

per

fekt.