We had the brand new neighbors
over for lunch of homemade
soup and cookies of cinnamon and nutmeg flavors.
My wife pointed to two deer in our woods.
City folk, they were surprised, but of country life,
they finally understood.
They saw Confucius and the
Buddha around the waterfall and pond.
The wife said that of Eastern
religions, she was very fond.
She looked at my droopy, Scandinavian lids and bald pate
and said a great Buddha I make.
Our backyard Buddha was great of waist
with a big smile upon his face.
I said that I hoped she referenced not my girth.
She laughed and said I offered great mirth.
I wondered why she focused on something so dearth
instead of enlightenment, human awareness and self-worth.
She said I was the Buddha’s spitting image.
The smile was disappearing from my visage.
Along with my eyelids, my spirits began to droop.
That was the last time the new neighbor
would be getting any of my delicious, homemade soup.