A girl I went with for a time
was into anything wiccan
and kept jars full of roots
and dried animals
in a cupboard
over the sink.
Whenever I said anything was wrong
she lit some candles
consulted her Master Book of Herbalism
she had purchased down at Market Square
and concocted a rancid smelling brew
that always made me sick
When she converted to Buddhism
she replaced all her candles
with wooden Buddha head carvings,
threw out all her mystery jars,
and told me that guided reflection
was the way to go.
Once I reflected on why I had stayed with her
I finally came to my senses
and decided to go.
I now hear through the grapevine
that when Buddhism didn’t cut it
she switched to yoga
and when yoga ran its course
she became a skinhead.
Attending rallies in her Doc Martens
and spending a small fortune