At The Social Security Meditation Center 

bingo parlor waiting room game 
on the 6th floor of the 1st National Bank Building 
in downtown St. Paul on April 30th, 2024

everyone was waiting for their number to come up

there was no escaping the lengthy meditation

the underlying human hum

the om mani padme hum 

the low grade headache

the anxious social droning
the helplessly hoping 
devotees 
sitting for hours 
pondering unacceptable koans 
that brought them here 
from different circumstances
to practice citizenship

they were meditating 
in wheelchairs
on crutches
with one leg
with no legs
in sweatshirts
in tennis shoes
in ballcaps and burkas

they were praying for mercy
they were privately weeping
they were silently screaming
they were clutching shreds of dignity

some smelled like work
some smelled like weed
some smelled tired of living

bored senseless 
on metal benches 
standing, pacing 
climbing the walls
staring at phones
sitting crosslegged on concrete 
zazenning without pillows
chewing gum
and waiting for deliverance
from a good social servant
who could help them suffer 
less

all colors, creeds, and specimens
of zoned out citizens
confronting bureaucratic forces
and clerical reckonings
while security guard bodhisattva 
gatekeeper with a gun
monitored intractable sufferings
of 
the disaffected
the disabled
the sick, the poor, the elderly
the downtrodden
the broken 
the agitated insane man talking to spirits
the frustrated mother at the end of her wits

the woman who waited all day yesterday 
and was told to come back today 
so she could meditate 4 more hours 

the unseen lost soul down a hallway
who went berserk yelling profanities 
at someone in a bulletproof glass cubicle

and everyone else whose patience was taxed
until a number freed us
to proceed with our appointments

we sons, daughters, and orphans 
of these United States

meditating on social insecurity 

while waiting in American purgatory 
for the system to love us.