Once in India,
I locked myself
in a white room
decorated only with
a bamboo-mat
& a ceiling fan.

There was an incense burner
& a hole in the ground
in there, too.

I torched nag champa
incessantly,
visited the hole often
& chanted to
the sun & the moon
to find myself.

It's so strange how
I can't remember
a ****** thing
about that pilgrimage,
'cept I made it
back home safely
with my clothing
smelling
like sweet ****.