Heaven and Barbara Walters

Heaven,
Where Does it Exist, and How
Do We Get There?
(why am i watching Barbara Walters trying
to answer this question?)

first terrorist bombers living only to die martyrs,
walking in circles to keep their limbs alive,
talking to Barbara,
one on one
in a cell;
why is she here if she's judging them already?
this woman doesn't listen.

next the Dalai Lama;
his wisdoms going to be the theme
of my winter break. last night
after meeting "Howard" in the parking lot,
we sat out back of the movies rolling love
and smoking friendship. laughing to tears
over how suiting these pages were,
reading straight from the words, of this happy old man.

Caitlin: page 36, on the subject of politics,
so unexpectedly suiting
that i've been searching the world wide for his words
all day. (can't find them)

Dayna: "ohhh this one's good"; something about
the moon and the stars,
i'm thinking of her mind, her world, her magical
landscape; she likes it.

Anna: page 110, compassionate? yeah right.
(last page of the book, did she think she was good
at summing things up?)
"you're not compassionate either" she scoffs over
popcorn and you-didn't-tell-us-they-were-ginormous size fountain pop
(99 cents for the upgrade he says, "is it worth it?" we ask; intensity
in our glare, he knows why we're laughing)

Johnny Cash and June Carter,
excellent. i keep criticizing everything, thinking how happy i am
about the way things have been going. thinking i'm going to research
this bullshit and see if Cash really was such a drug retarded fool.

the Dalai Lama is talking to Barbara, stifling giggles.
"are you a god, she asks?" oh Barbara, think about where
you come from.
"if i'm a god, then why do i have this eye infection"
oh, the gross realism of disease and decay, don't think
i can handle it, but he's smiling.

Barbara in all her Los Angeles, asks if she can kiss him
on the cheek. the dramatic moment of the show,
awkward, material, superficial (she's going to keep
that kiss and show it to everyone).

Dalai Lama smiles, laughs, jumps away, gives her
a nose rub, says that's how they do it
in another world.
apparently him and Richard Gere, they're good friends.

some atheists: cue my exit to leave.
i don't have time for pessimism,
especially not in a world where this happy
wise, old man exists on the front of books in cars,
where twenty dollars buys you all that fun,
where $14.97 gets you two obscenely large pops,
a good twenty minutes of knee slapping,

and free, extra large refills
of popcorn.