City Girl in the Suburbs

gets her wallet stolen

at yoga.

Yes, I left my bag
in the dressing room.
Yes, I should know better.

I live fanatically by such rules as:
Always lock.
Leave nothing on car seats.
Leave nothing in the car at all
unless you can part with it.

I just thought it was okay.
It was YOGA.
In the suburbs.
C'mon.
Who is going to slip into your bag
like light through a crack
while you lay breathing on the floor
to carry off a wallet
stuffed with receipts and
teacher discount cards?

This is my profiling
of suburban yogis
counting this geography
of the world
as safe.

But we are all of this world.

Tomorrow
I'll put down my paint brush
to do penance
at the hands
of bureacracy
and count my losses
in the nearly finished sandwich punches
the Starbucks gift card
and wait patiently
for the shiny new credit cards
to slide through
the slot in my door.