Sitting like Buddha

legs crossed

arms at side.

Trying to conjure peace.

Windows wet from morning rain

the hum of nothing

a car drives by.

Wheels sound like ocean waves

hitting the shores

rolling in.

On the chair next to my bed sits Lolita

she was wise beyond her years

what trickery.

I place a mask over the book

covering her legs

then pray.

Sitting like Buddha

legs crossed

arms at side.

I wonder.

Did Nabokov ever know peace?