Sheer Luck

And the Son of God shall
separate the sheep from
the goats, which seems to
indicate that the clothing
options in Heaven lean heavily
toward wool, like maybe it’s cold
there, a permanent November, or
maybe Jesus just enjoys seeing
everyone in Christmas sweaters
because it reminds him of his
birthday. I hope the wool doesn’t
itch in Heaven. The last thing I’ll
need is to sit in my mansion just
chilling with John of Patmos and
getting high as shit on whatever
he was ingesting when he wrote
Revelation and listening to Mozart
riff on a golden piano only to have
my sweater start irritating my neck.

Will I still be blind in the afterlife?
Will the German Shepherd I had
when I was two be there in a harness to
make sure I don’t fall in the Crystal Sea
or trip over any loose bricks in the
gold-paved streets? Can dogs still get
fleas there because if you’re gonna
have one type of animal why not
another? Now I’m worried that the
fleas are going to get into my
sweater and make it even more itchy
than usual, and if so, is it really Hell
I’m talking about? Isn’t eternal existence
a type of Hell in and of itself? Who really
thinks it would be great to live forever
in a mansion that probably gets dusty
and you’re not going to have a cleaning
lady because who wants to do that in
the next life? And can I just be honest
for a minute and say that harp music
sucks balls and I don’t want a crown
of precious jewels because that’s kind of
gaudy and not really my thing.

No, I just want to die and become
nothing, just get eaten up by worms
and bacteria while I return to the
Earth and whatever sentience you
might call a soul stops with my
heart because whatever amount
of time I get to live and breathe and
write speculative poems about death
is enough, really, more than I deserve
because when you think about it we’re
all lucky to get any time at all to be
in a universe as barren and harsh as
ours and I’m not even sure that what
I’m doing with my allotted days justifies
the good fortune of existence at all
let alone qualifies me for an infinite
Bonus Round surrounded by angels.


About semiblind

Bringing you stark existentialism since 1981.
This entry was posted in poetry, religion and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Sheer Luck

  1. Pingback: Greatest Hits | …said the blind man…

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