First, how did the artist
with the spray can reach
the bridge’s undercarriage

to paint “MEDITATE” in a
surprisingly legible hand?
Crawl? Rappel over the side?

And did the artful one imagine
that the word might convince
a passer-by perhaps paddling

below to calm the mind, if not
the body, in mid-paddle? And
might the kayak’d one think,

sure, this is as good a time
as any to close the eyes, feel
the breath, find some peace?

I picture someone hanging
precariously, attempting to
quiet their own monkey mind

and hammering heart as their
hand traces letters onto steel,
arched under a bridge called

Rainbow, over a river called
American, utterly focused,
not thinking of the potential

drop to the water’s surface,
living in that creative moment,
meditatively soaking up the view.

Who am I to say that there are
better ways to deliver a message?
Who’s to say that it wasn’t a deeply

contemplative experience for
the artist—as it has been for me,
comfortably seated, eyes closed,

imagining the scenario,
in the right here,
in the right now?