Untouchable

“You can’t touch this!”

Gesar Mukpo running 

in the shrine room…

no one could touch him…

his brother didn’t come close.

Untouchable in Tepoztlan…

on the bottom of the social order…

pariah to many, 

quaint aberration to others,

recognized only by

Burning Man mind.

In London, my teacher, Trungpa,

leaned over to the man lying

in the gutter, 

covered by his own filth.

They spoke briefly, then Trungpa

and his students continued walking.

“What did he say, Rinpoche?”

asked a student.

“He said: ‘You think you’re better

than me, in your fancy clothes, but,

really we’re the same.’”

“What do you think, Rinpoche?”

“That man is enlightened.”

Untouchable.