The Laughing Buddha in Traffic

Cross-legged on a Honda’s hood
The Laughing Buddha bounces
With each frustrated brake-tap
His belly rippling like rush-hour waves
Through seas of metal and exhaust

Horns blast their urban sutras
A symphony of road rage and despair
But he just grins wider
Converting anger into cosmic jokes
Each honk a new enlightenment

“Behold!” he bellows over engines
“The perfect chaos of 5:15!
Your GPS has lost its mind
And so should you!”

Red lights become meditation beads
Traffic cones, his disciples
While stressed commuters clutch their steering wheels
Like prayer beads that won’t grant wishes
He spreads loving-kindness
Through rolled-up windows

In the fast lane
There is no fast lane
In the slow lane
There is no slow lane
There is only
This eternal moment
Of bumper-to-bumper satori

A motorcycle splits lanes
Like a koan cutting through logic
The Buddha claps in delight
His laughter drowning out
A thousand car alarms