print previewback SAM PEREIRA
Approaching Afterlife
It was always that afterlife thing
That got in the way of breathing.
Tailspins happen, and then
A truly honest man moves on.
I say this, not to enrage the couple
Just back from worshipping
At St. Ignatius of the Mad,
That little-known home of prayer
Away from people’s real homes.
I am invested in your hope.
It’s just that every night,
When I turn off the TV and
Deprogram from the dilemma
Of satellites, I look out
My window into the darkness,
And there is always some 757
Flying directly over the field
West of here. Everyone up there
Is, no doubt, mumbling
A silent prayer, while dipping
Their swizzle sticks
Casually up against their ears.
The pain is like nothing
They have ever experienced
In their entire flying lives.
I wonder about the afterlife
Right about then; how
It got away from us, and
Just how soon the new routes
Will be reaching our silver phones. 
Approaching Afterlife
The Flavors of Despair