Dreamed 2013/7/12 by Wayan
I'm in line at Heaven's gate, waiting for my judge.
As a winged friend glides by, I flash my sin-badge.
It's like a radiation counter--cruelty and pain
Fog your soul-film. Cumulative. Then again...
The badge-count's fallible, a crude analog
Without interview, he waves me in! Angels like him
We? Wait--my own badge is dove-profiled! Is that
I mosey through heaven: a leased hardwood flat
The first door down is thick: a soundproof hall.
Classical musicians jam. I'm tempted to sit in,
But as I listen, think again: cute flute, but all
the others lag, old-noodle limp. Walk on.
A TV room. Canned ha. Eternity of comedy? When
A row of patient folk sit in a hall. Some chairs, some floor.
Stalk rooms afume. More Heaven than I deemed: a fair-
So much for death. Let go, let go. Deep breath. Up corridor
NOTES IN THE MORNING
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