finding my way

the man who helps me open the door that i thought was locked
to the mercado on cherokee street and
the makings for guacamole i find inside and
the independence i feel pedaling the loaner bike around in the morning sun
finding my way through unknown city
kim handing the paper gift bag
over the fence of the art studio/yoga class space that was hard to find
several overdue chapsticks and a bonus offering wrapped inside
the rising liquid nitrogen vapors
lifting from metal mixmaster bowl while we
wait and watch the birthday salted caramel
made-to-order ice cream
being mixed into existence  
sounds of a singing crystal bowl that reach us as we
make our way to the top of the mound
(the largest mound of the largest prehistoric earthen construction in the americas north of mexico)
that  was built basket by basket

which we later find out is part of a new moon meditation
which involves ringing the bowl for a half hour straight

i like how there are still things to see/notice in the sky i say 
while sunset-watching on a cloudy night
from our perch atop monk’s mound at cahokia
where i see patches of light – subtle hintings, and the pink glow coming through
in the thin-clouded spots
the escapade of a missing address and
locked gate and a foot landing in the
just-laid cement and the smell of dog shit on our shoes and
how i need the meditation we land in at the end of the day
at the kitchen table
we name our envies 
and how our questioning of institutions
is part of what got us there


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