Aug 14, 2007
If I were to imagine heaven, it would be angry Greek Air-Conditioning repairmen having shouting matches in the street. It would be Asian laundromat workers staring at me through huge front windows. It would be a merciless hangover spooning me as I woke up.
Heaven would be one person asking me thirteen straight questions about a bookstore with alphabetical arrangements. It would be directions to a Mexican Restaurant that closed down two years ago. It would be a copy of Frank Norris' McTeague that I gave away despite not being able to find my own. It would be tired legs, heavy eyes and 7 dollars in my bank account.
Heaven would be a screaming woman keeping me from hearing that my train was going express-- ten stops past the one I needed. It would be a man complaining to a bus driver that a bus was too hot before getting off eight streets later. It would be my aching and broken shoulder suffering the lifting of several heavy boxes full of books. It would be the slow drag of a lean life.
Heaven would explode around me in a blinding heat. It would be thin walkways with slow people ambling toward nothing in particular. It would be birds at all hours. It would be your impression of Monty Python because you do it better than them; you do. it would be my shaking hands.
Heaven is a warm bed in a hot house and a few hours of sleep.