Life of Slice
“Let the breath breathe you,”
the yoga instructor urges,
as we lie on our backs
in corpse pose – shavasana –
at the conclusion of our practice.
It’s the usual mystical gobbledygook,
but what do I want?
A discussion of good and evil?
I’ve always been charmed by the notion
that breath is life. Pranayama.
Besides, I can’t argue with results.
I always feel so much better
after my weekly yoga class.
“Namaste,” we all murmur,
rolling up our yoga mats,
putting on our shoes,
leaving the studio.
I pass the vacant pizza shop
on my way home.
Enormous sheets of brown paper
cover the plateglass windows.
“World’s largest slice!” a sign declares,
swinging loose over the awning outside.
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