Heaven Can Wait

Just another plunder into the realm of darkness. This one does have some happy stuff, so, that's good :)

Drip, drip.

The bitterness fills me, but not with taste.

The anger fills me, but not with rage.

Happiness still eludes me, but not for long.

I can see my mother, standing patiently, waiting.

My father was not yet there, his heart continued to beat.

My brother, still thirteen, did his little chicken dance across the floor.

I used to love that dance, and surprisingly, I still do.

My best friend, also the best man at my wedding, and the only

other man to have ever seen me cry, and also the only person

to witness me taking a s**t in a bathroom urinal on a most

precarious drunk Wednesday evening in the middle of

December almost fifty years ago today, was eating chicken wings

and drinking a cold beer.

He was never much of a poet, but the essence of his actions

would suggest otherwise.

I missed him a great deal, and now, even more.

Drip, drip.

Life and I never saw eye to eye, and thank God for that, for I

was never a big fan of boring.

And my God, maybe not the same as yours, definitely

has a sense of not being boring.

My sister is standing next to me, also still alive,

also still a mother of four.

We had never been on the same page, but now,

in this moment, we almost are.

I'll take almost.  It's better than nothing at all.

Drip, drip.

The colors are starting to blend together. 

I can taste the color purple, and now, green. 

I wonder what yellow is going to taste like.

Lemon is the obvious choice, but why not funnel cake?

That would be different.  And, I really like funnel cake.

I guess the search for my magical rainbow

has finally reached its crescendo.

I feel less grounded than I ever have before. 

The pain is still there, surprisingly, but it feels

different, raw but without the bad aftertaste.

My grandmother finally found her way.

I never got to see her back when I was still me, and I have

to admit, she is more wondrous than my imagination would permit.

The fingertips are coming in full force now, ticklish but mostly tingly. 

Angels, perhaps.

Let's hope so.

Not a big fan of heaven, but an even less bigger fan of hell.

Maybe both are bullshit. 

Maybe there's nothing.

Maybe there's something even worse.

It's hard to concentrate, my brother keeps doing that stupid chicken dance.

He's been dead for almost seventy years, but still, I love him.

I think I'm crying, or laughing, or both.

Everyone is standing now. That can't be good.

Drip, drip.

I wonder when this morphine is finally going to kick in?