My Travel Plans
My fundamental friends remind me,
cheerfully,
that I will rot in hell.
I had a bad start.
My hapless relatives mugged
Jesus, jilted Mohammed,
and defied Moses, to
frolic with a golden calf;
although, my mother,
god bless her,
claims she wasn’t there.
And I’m afraid I’ve bruised
the Ten Commandments on occasion;
although, not enough for my picture to hang
beside them on the post office wall.
I’m not a bad guy.
I keep my kids clean and my pets fed.
And although my antics have, on occasion,
broken some backs,
they’ve made other souls, at other times, lose
themselves in laughter.
But there they’ll sit,
my friends;
harping it up on a cushy cloud,
having cold one after cold one
while I suffer below in
unimaginable agony,
forever.
I wonder, if between joy and joy,
they’ll miss me.
