I saw you that last spring
wearing a red velvet jacket
covering your tie dye.
You were ethereal then Rose,
had become stuck on Buddha,
stars floated in your hair.
I still remember your tattered blue jeans
& now I wonder,
all these years later,
am curious if you had been on a pilgrimage,
if you had crawled
all the way from Miami to Tallahassee
on your knees?
Do you still believe in zen-magic,
& can you hear me?