I used to pull the truck over to cry
under church billboards.
Join us on Sunday!
All those smiling
cardboard faces working
toward perfectly placed crowns
chaise lounge of cumulus clouds.
Then I recalled what I’ve always
known - that we soothe our fears
with fairy tale,
and also, rumor has it that sisters
with flame hair and a noose
around the neck are stopped
at the gate,
which needs a fresh coat of paint.
So instead, I imagine you’re in a place
where the drinks are bottom shelf and the jokes -
well, who doesn’t love a good dick joke?
Remember how we used to ask each other
then howl with laughter as if that were the joke.
What’s it like in your kingdom?
Angels still dragging around
Dry cleaner permanently closed?
Driving, I saw the face
of a homeless woman yesterday
who looked just like you.
I wanted to bring her home with me,
tuck her into the warmest bed
in the house and feed her
hash brown casserole but
I was afraid she might tiptoe
out in the dark of the night,
my credit card information tucked in
her back pocket, her arms wrapped
around the blue vase grandma gave me.
Or maybe I’ve confused her with you.