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!”
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Kenneth Pobo
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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.
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