I arrive at the yoga studio
so early the air is still chalky with night
I am sparkly with advance satisfaction
imagining how I will glow
how I will unbraid the ropes in my back
my brain is unable to process
that the locked door
means there will be no yoga class
that I have mixed up the schedules
that I have gotten up early for nothing
I abandon my happiness
like a rotten thing
I consider yelling
but a small part of me worries
how I would explain the deranged sound
if a client walked by
or an old boyfriend
walking his dog
with his serene wife
I drive home
planning how much butter I will eat
to get back at the yogis
for their confusing website
my son offers me cereal
and my husband suggests Christmas music
but all I can think of is the coyote we saw last night
on his own in the park
standing quietly
in his right to pounce.