The conversation came after you asked me about heaven told me that you thought heaven would be specific to each person, & that each person would have their own version of it and then asked me what mine would be & I was so scared to tell you, I dont have one. But you nodded your head, as if confirming a suspicion that school had robbed me of a belief in some stories You said, You dont have to believe what I believe. Its enough to be good. Be good. I will. I will think about your heaven. Your heaven would be the same haircut, forever It would be a stick, and a dog, and some distance, a lawn that always needs mowing a six pack of Pilsner short bottles & your real teeth back ... Your heaven would be Austria, before the war & Canada, after you met grandma ... My heaven would make you laugh because I get the feeling you didnt get to do that very much through my hell, through the night terrors and bloody noses through the eyes, black, bruised, back sneak-attack knapsack and winter coat hijacks, You did your best to seal up the cracks in my armor & made my heaven here. I would have loved to have made you laugh more to make your send flowers list just once So I offer you now my if If there is a heaven, mine would have a post office & I could send letters to yours The first letter would read, Hells not so bad. They pretty much let you do whatever.
Posted on: Sun, 11 Jan 2015 18:48:14 +0000
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