namaste

rarely did she use
her yoga meditations while driving
home from class,
still in her yoga pants
and smelling
of incense,
instead
she floored the pedal
and ran every
yellow light as it turned
red.
she zig zagged
across the white lines,
the yellow lines,
the dotted lines,
trying hard
to get ahead.
sometimes she cursed
the slower cars, the pedestrians
with their casual gait.
she waved a stiff finger
at them while
speeding by, but always
ending a tirade with
Namaste.