This is not an unusual sighting. 
The Buddha is everywhere, watching, 
standing in your path, now 
blocking the computer screen, even 
appearing on it, a faint projection 
of himself, if anyone even knows what 
the Buddha looks like, do you? 

So, is it any wonder he might show up 
on top of the soft drink machine 
in the tire store while you thumb through 
old magazines full of dead rock stars, 
maybe asking you to buy him a soda, why not? 
Don’t you think the Buddha gets thirsty 
what with all that sitting zazen and contemplating 
his own belly button lint, when he’s not playing 
head games, the crafty fellow. 

He even comes to you in the body 
of your bouncing baby dog, no priestly robes 
for the Buddha, no martyred visionary he. 
No antiseptic ascetic with superior airs. 

Sometimes he’s in the garden with the slugs, 
letting them tickle his fancy, letting 
the birds have their way with him, 
letting your little dog lift his leg in salute. 
It is his pleasure. 

He doesn’t even mind 
if you’re distracted on the day 
you encounter him on the road, 
even if you knock him sideways, 
then drink him down like a cold 
soda out of the machine when waiting 
for the man to change your tires, 
each one shiny with the new-born Buddha spirit 
to get you safely to your destination. 

Bio: Dotty LeMieux