pre-ramadhan was me n step, or rather step n i, chilling in step's stomping ground, jimmy's in the upper west. something told me not to go...but i had to...step was leaving town n i needed to meet my end...
by the time i reached the half full half empty mark of the glass of sierra nevada, step downed 4 of something, crushing the cans with his large gavel fists as he mapped out his future in central america, south america, back here, or up to d.c. in a couple..with money, loads of it, he told me in a single sentence that ran like a bankrobber with two bags of cash with trailing benjamins cruising the lower east.
"i wanna be rich," step said, standing beside the outdoor sitting area we dreamt at, taking his third cigarette break.
"i feel u," i said, before i joined him, drained hot sauce, birds n beer with 3 puffs, before my back slouched in the foldout chair and ny's somethings-gonna-happen gripped me by the throat. i let it slice me. deep enough to shed.
bottomed out. shed myself with step. gave him my skin and down-ness and habits that were never mine to bury south of border, when he asked about tomorrow, what i was doing.
"ramadhan" i said. "ramadhan is arriving like the moon you pointed out 2 weeks back." the moon step pointed out, smack mid walk back to his place, smack me into his tall back, was encircled by obama-drones.
the moon, the obama-drones pointed at like wild west gunmen on the loose, shone oblivious like it always did, in deep meditation.
iraq is a wrap, afghanistan, a wrap, native america, a wrap, palestine, a wrap, australia, a wrap...time to stick up the moon, find a man on mars to demonize, some women out there to say are oppressed by the hazy brown colors that demon mars-man is subjecting them to. we have no choice but to intervene, go out there, settle, become president, rave about a bangladeshi president in mars...how far we've come...
i went far enough that night to land in starbuks with a cup of black coffee and something to write on. i tapdanced on the keyboard until my guts came out and so did my intentions for the month of purge, of cleansing, as prescribed by the guru muhammad...
grow deeper in this path of yogum, yuj, unity, in yama and niyama, no harm, no consumption of flesh or animal products, byproducts...grow deeper in asana, in slow movement, longer than the oddyssey and illiad, longer than the space between the himalaya and i.
wana grow deeper, in dhyna, in my walk and talks and all praise is due...not everything needs to be said...all praise for this opp...
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