This must mean something.
It says here reading love poems
in the afternoon. Before sneezing.
Does a Bless You! have integrity?
He goes about his day doing good.
I mean he doesn’t tip the buskers
or anything. All the waiters
already broke him. He swims
silently through the afternoon.
Once evening arrives, he counts
all of his deeds, makes his lists
(shaking his fists after jotting a
dozen or two lines, for effect,
and to ease a cramp). Catching
a glimpse of the pearly gates, he
knows he is in trouble. I left
my list at home, he dreams he
says, before attempting to run
back. Dreams. They can go all
Inception on you. As with war,
no matter which side you’re on,
there’s incentive to murder.
Pylons in space (there are pot
holes to fill everywhere). Curtains
on death’s dream, he pries his
eyes open with the hand that
isn’t still clutching his list. What
have I done to die today? What
a first waking thought! His values
now shaken, he’s upright making a
brand new list. Out the screen
window, dusk. And someone, in
full clown make-up and attire,
reciting the sonnets of Shakespeare,
all sad eyes. Big red bulbous nose
pointed up to a top floor window.
