Someday When Safely Ensconced In Heaven
I’ll ask Jesus about learning how to play
piano. I meant to learn while alive,
but dammit, I had to sling hash for cash,
and then at home I had to lose 750 billion tiffs
with my partner — no, no, it’s this way, turn right,
right I say, no, no, it’s left, I’m sure of it,
fuck! — my mom played beautifully, Scott Joplin rags
or flouncy forties tunes from sheet music
stored in the piano bench. Yesterday
“Bridge Over Troubled Waters” came on
WOGL. I remembered as a high school sophomore
craving the piano intro, only got as far as “Chopsticks”
the one time I tried to teach myself, I wonder
can we learn things in heaven? Maybe
I’d take up guitar, be a pop star, a spiky Lesley Gore,
Jesus in the mosh pit slamming around,
flashing a peace sign and shouting, “I promised
a great time forever. Now let’s boogie!”
Kenneth Pobo
Kenneth Pobo teaches English and Creative Writing at Widener University . In July 2008, WordTech Press is bringing out a
new book of his poems called Glass Garden . His work can be read online at: Forpoetry.com, Three Candles, 2River View,
Stickman Review, Loch Raven Review, and elsewhere. Catch Ken’s radio show, “Obscure Oldies,” from 6-8pm EST
Saturdays at WDNR.com.
Somerset, Kentucky
How many diners does God need?
Heaven has bad cholesterol. I stop
for eggs and grits, slather on butter.
From the window I see I left my door
wide open. My car, a garage sale,
everything marked “Free.”
No one wants what I have. Maybe
that applies to the Community College job
I’m interviewing for. I know I’m toast
when I say I’m not married.
Back in Knoxville, I get the friendly
kiss-off letter, wrap a cat toy in it,
watch Swipesy tear it apart.