Broken

I consider it my sacred duty
to break the rules.
A broken rule is the open gate
to a wilder meadow.
I smoked an Arturo Fuentes cheroot
with the Buddha.
Forgive me.
Asked if he had any rules.
He said, just one.
Vow to be healed by your tears.
Then he opened up to me about his sadness,
admitted he had to come back
because he was lonely.
Maybe as Anthony Bourdain.
Maybe Dolly Parton.
I made a bourbon smoothie
and shared it with Jesus.
Asked if he had any rules.
He said, just one.
Call me brother, not Lord.
Cucumber, mint, and kale
with a shot of Wild Turkey,
forgive me, it was delicious.
A broken rule is the open gate
to a deeper rule, unwritten
and harder to disobey.
The rules of the body 
lead to the rules of the soul.
Like the one that says,
love for no reason.
The one that says,
make friends with the brokenhearted.
The one that says, forgive yourself
again and again.
So I discover the rules I cannot break
by breaking the ones
I can.