Heaven has been imagined,

Plush, white, clear,

With eternal brightness.

In my head, it is instead

So much of the 32 year

history that tug o' wars

between us.

The greatest music I will ever know

is the wind as it whips at your jacket..

Taking my breath and ruffling

your hair simultaneously.

The sound of your tires on gravel.

What we have... lies tight in the

spill of porch lights.

Where somewhere

in the distance ,

A Jr. High band is practicing,

and grown men still call their Fathers daddy...

And fireflies, born into flight,

pitch themselves against

The night like

exploding stars.