I've given you two chances to be in my life but both times you've hurt me.
When I'm with you, I try not to think of anyone else however,
as I am Bakasana-ing, my mind is racing-- (will the children remember to brush their teeth?)
As I Chaturanga with you, I push away my niggling thoughts (is that b.o. i smell?)
"Urdha Mukha Svanasana" (definitely the smell of a longanisa burp, i'll wait 'til i flip my dog to check for another pinoy in the room)
You have the stamina that I don't have, Yoga.
You've the discipline to fill your body with air and empty your mind of your day (i've done absolutely nothing today, but you don't know that).
I would like 'us' to work, but when I'm with you, I find myself praying for Shavasana.
Together, with sweat and energy, we smell of bodies in love ( ...this reminds me, i need to do a load...)
You urge me with words like 'open your hips' and 'pulse' (sh**, there's laundry in the wash, what day did i put that in...)
You suggest 'more sensation' (...i hate sour clothes),
and as we downward-face doggy style I struggle against flatulence and am thankful that at last with you, I have reached kundalini.
I am not giving up on us,
'til next wednesday--