Heaven is a truck
It got stuck
On the breeze

-  Heaven Is a Truck by Pavement

They lay me flat on the bed of the truck.  Packed me in as tight as they could.  I didn't look behind us.  I couldn't really.  Instead I looked up.  I watched the sky through the tree tops.  I don't think it's a view seen by most.

It's beautiful.  Not jaw dropping like the cliffs or joy inducing like the waterfalls.  The sky and the trees and a truck and me.  I thought my Grandma might be there, just behind the clouds.  I prayed to her, but I didn't get a response.

It's not a fear of dying.  It's an understanding.  I messed up.  There will be consequences.




Two years later and I'm laying on my back again.  This sky is a bit different. Stars mapping out constellations fill the sky and the air is lighter, one deep breath away from winter.

They're going to lay me down in the room with all the lights.  They're going to spread my arms out on my own personal cross.  And then it's lights out until we meet again.

Labels: Heaven Is a Truck, Pavement, personal writing, prose poetry, writing