i think the gold colored wool shirt i am wearing is cool but my lumpy body, decidedly less so

there’s a spider
in the corner,
an inch
from the floor.

i didn’t react
with a
cool reaction
in the new meditation
group i joined
and now i will
meditate
on being
uncool.

there’s a spider
in the corner
of the bathroom
at the small shop i
work at.
it is near
the sink.

it is suggested
i try to do
100 days
in a row
of a
guided meditation,
a “sit”,
and i can
post my thoughts
about this,
or try
to engage with
others,
in the new
meditation group
i joined.
it is online
so i can be
uncool in
multiple realities.

there’s a spider
in the small bathroom
at the shop i
work in.
the bathroom
barely works.
the trashcan
is full of
used toilet paper.
the spider ducks
into a crevice
of one of
the sink’s legs,
when i
startle it.
when it
startles me.
in that crevice
i know it is
there, but
it is
unseen.

meditation
maybe
could be
might be
less about
reaching
something and
more just
observing our own
sensory experience.
how does our
brain
interpret
our environment?
does my back hurt
while i’m sitting?
are my hip flexors
tight?
does my inability to
be cool
affect the feeling of
my skin?

{a woman
i know
as in i know
she exists,
or
at least
think
she does,
she wears
a peach colored dress,
except the bottom part
is shorts.
so i guess
that’s a jumper?
she walks to
a boat
and so she walks
on a dock
in her peach colored
dress-top-shorts-bottom
and she is
really
just physically
stunning.
i watch her
try to get to
the boat—
i am in a
parking lot—
and all the men
on the dock,
and there are always
lots of men
on a dock,
all the men
try to talk
to her,
say hello,
say something
cool, try
to get her to
notice them.
i think this must be
exhausting.
i am in
a
parking lot.}

there’s a spider
in the corner,
hidden
in a crevice
of one of four legs
that support a
large plastic sink
in a small
and only
partially operable
bathroom.
in a small
shop. in which
i work.
spiders scare me
and i notice the spider
and i feel fear
but then i
almost immediately
feel tenderness.
pain and love
are difficult
to separate from
each other,
maybe. maybe
it is an indication
of
some type
of
growth,
that the gross
disgusting terrifying
spider
now inspires in me
a desire to
protect.
maybe it’s just
change,
and growth or
regress are
only monikers we use
based on our
sensory experiences
and how we have
learned
to interpret
them.

i used a
“thumbs up”
icon to express my
agreement and
positive feelings
towards a
post, in the
meditation group
i just joined.
i notice that
no one else really uses
that icon, that
there are dozens of choices
to visually display
approval, and
“thumbs up”
doesn’t appear to be
in fashion.
when a friend
sends me a
Thumbs Up
in a text,
i say,
“yeah,
thumbs up
to me”.
that way
they know that
i am not
cool.
that way
they know that
i know
what’s going
on.

the woman in the peach
getup is cool.
the spider is a
heartbreaker.
the meditation group is
full of people
from all over
the world.
there is no
possibility
that some of them
aren’t just my type
of people,
and some of them
are not at all
what i might
enjoy.

i encourage my friend,
“enjoy to enjoy!”.
my back is
a bit sore
but i am not
meditating.
my hip flexors
are tight
but i am not sitting
cross legged.
i am in
a small store,
working.
i will go
home in one or
two moments.
i will have to cross
several parking lots
to get there.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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