God said to me,
Yes, little old me,
Scrawny from pain,
In need of a hair stylist,
Old jeans and tee,
The renegade wear of my early hippie days.
“It’s time to go now,
so pack your favorite things and let’s be off.”
His voice was smooth as
Nate King Cole and spirited as
Sammy Davis Jr. with a wee bit of
George M. Cohan
Thrown into the mix.
“Can I take my Classic Movie Collection?”
“No need, the actors you admire
Are all there , ready to perform
Any choice monologue at your request.”
besting The Duke?”
“Sure, that gets my vote.
I like THE QUIET MAN, too.”
“And Doris Day?”
“She’s not there yet, but Rock Hudson is waiting.”
“Yes, but you might want to gather up
Your poetry books.
Those heavenly rhymers love
A good book signing.”
‘You mean ee cummings, and T.S. Elliott,
“Along with athletes, Esther Williams and Sonia Heine.
You see, Ice rinks and swimming pools
‘So many reasons to leave life,
But I don’t want . . . . “
“We’d better hurry, the party’s about to begin.
The bunting and blue birds are tuning up,
The Mormon Tabernacle Choir
Members who have come this way.
A garden party set In gold-leaf clouds
With a million carousels, real stallions to ride,
A Gala about to start.
Lemon curd, blueberry scones,
Chicken salad chucked with celery and sweet red peppers,
Watermelon without social stigma.
No need to take a grocery basket,
It’s already there in full supply
At your favorite, 1940’s corner grocery store.”
“God, Are You sure I’m fit for the excitement?”
Then let it be,
Just a peaceful glen
to go roaming in the gloaming
With old friends—
The pot-throwing Monk
The young Genius herding sheep,
The favorite Uncle in charge of
Celestial Lost and Found,
Everyone special to you is there
Infants that didn’t make it into life,
Moms and dads who knew you were sorry,
Even when you couldn’t say the words.”
“Hurry up now, Old Lady, you won’t be
Old or in pain much longer.
What you all call “heaven” is nearly here
No aches, all joy, and best of all,
No jangling, junk-calling telephones.”
June 19, 2018