The Cymotrichous Terpa

Every day I ask her what she's wearing
So that she can seem more real
She always wears green
We meditate together
As well as other things

I try to remember to take her running
She often runs me ragged
I thought I would throw up
A few times atop the Hello Walk

I thought that I should draw her
She told me to think of her
Each time I hold a pen

She sits in the passenger seat
Tells me what's wrong with my thinking
She's really the one who's driving

She is my glunk
She's there even when I forget her
She can't be unthunk
She smacks me upside the head
So that I not forget
To not try to do everything myself

She loudly slurps her miso shio
And the raw egg atop her rice
Her chopsticks click out a tattoo
On her cha wan, her little bowl
with the character kami on it

That's her preferred flair
On the ass of her sweatpants
On a pendant, on a ring
On her jacket, hoodie, or T-shirt
Or any props or bling

An unassuming character
Unless you know what it means
She is my avatar
My connection to the infinite

At bottom, I am a mystic
Always seeking intimacy with G-d

(4/18)  NaPoWriMo

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