No, no. No lap-dances with angels, no pushing cash into the elastic bands of their wings and copping a feel of heaven. Is it my fear, yours? To be skeevy and homeless in the afterworld? Me, haunting and flapping down the sidewalks of paradise, the smell of urine parting a sea of cherubim. And you, in Job's rags, riffling through the trash, collecting Diet Coke cans of redemption.
- Comment
- Reblog
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
qbit 
Amazing! I love every line of this
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great. Thank you so much!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yikes, I had so hoped there would be no more homelessness in the next life! Smiles.
LikeLiked by 1 person
LOL!
LikeLike
Absolutely wonderful Qbit. “Copping a feel of heaven” and lap dances!! Love it!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ahahaha!
LikeLike
The afterworld ~ you gave me much to ponder this morning. I look forward to your poetry, if it’s Sunday it must be qbit ~ though in reality, it is Monday.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great interpretation of the after life! LOL!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was a shock of imagery. That idea of “copping a feel of heaven” just popped me right on the back of the head. Love this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yeah, hey, glad you liked it.
LikeLike
I love, “collecting Diet Coke cans of redemption”!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ahahaha! Thanks.
LikeLike
Excellent, qbit! This line is particularly evocative for me:
“Me, haunting and flapping down the sidewalks of paradise.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
JR — May the joy of the season fill your heart here at the closing if the year 2021, and may peace abide in 2022. This is a most difficult time for our planet earth, and a time of turmoil for its peoples. May 2022 begin the way back! ✌🏼❤️🌎
LikeLiked by 1 person
Rob: Peace to you and yours.
LikeLike