30th Street Yoga

Last my week my yoga coach
ingested approximately five kilos
of dried poppy sepals. When I got to the shala
she had the boombox turned way up
and was turning back-flips across the studio. I said
"What's up?" She said "Man trouble,"
as usual. Hundred and one degrees in the shade.
Her brain was boiling with black sap,
leaving streaks of tar on the floor. I said "Girlfriend,
save it for cooler weather!" She said
"One more back-flip--" that was it--
next thing I knew she was just a puddle of poppy juice on the floor.
Another yoga mat, ruined.

--word salad

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