-common sense and other dangerous territories-

who can navigate such a mad terrain?

is it priest? the pain-in-the-ass across the street?––

the Rosenbergs? 

for those in the know, I have questions.

is the heaven-scape cloud-like and shimmering, 

with lambs all around, and great grandfathers

rocking to broadcasts of Enrico Caruso,

or is it populated by the dimwitted, perpetually

leaning on the tithing pleas of Jim & Tammy?

is the long-beard cascading from the chin of God

well-groomed, or does it stink like festering

mutton broth forced upon Lizzie by Andrew Borden?

will I be allowed to inspect the documents,

and to seek more compatible accommodations?

––and which of the Holy See's mobsters will have

their rings kissed in obedience at the gate?

so, who’s who in the land of good and plenty?

––and is the stairway to heaven built of solid materials

with the "good housekeeping seal of approval"?

––also, is the atmosphere clearly brushed in muted flesh-

tones as the Florentines have suggested, or smeared

a thicker Titian red as in the claims of angry Venetians?

lastly, if I may be so bold. –– when God made you from the snort

of his nostrils, would you say it was because he was on your side?