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.