A white poncho

And a long, white skirt at the bottom

A colorful mat

You stand before it

And you kneel on top of it

While mumbling.

Weird noises are coming out of your mouth

But your eyes are shut, concentrated.

You turn your head left and right

Up and down

Mechanically

And your hands move in half a circle.

That’s how you pray every dawn

At the warmth of your living room.