What It Means To Me To Be In Heaven Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I have been to the mailboxes which have had their
Seasons:
I have bought tickets to see the opened breasts of witches,
And now I have my own house
And it is really beautiful:
It is the fieldtrip of a dream you have traveled too far away
From to enter,
And the brick layers lay down,
And the clouds grow fat and equally embarrassed,
But the cars don’t slow down:
And all of the things I have to say, unequivocally,
I have said:
And the cat has had her kittens, and the rattlesnake her milk
Bottles of venom;
And even right now the professionals are touching down,
And all I have to say for myself is that I am glad that it is not
My job when it comes to bury them:
But it is my job to steal fireworks and light them off
While looking Alma in the eyes under or atop of her favorite
Color,
And telling her that this is what it means to me to be in heaven.