Dreaming of Heaven

 

The nun stood in front

of the boys’ Sunday morning

sixth grade CCD class,

as big and black and unmovable

as any mountain there ever was,

and from somewhere behind

all of those black clothes

she dreamt out loud

about heaven,

while Billy Balinski,

with his mind out the window,

tried to figure out what the heck

CCD stood for.

One of the C’s had to be Catholic,

but durned if he could get the other two.

 

“And in heaven the wine

flows from fountains like water…”

 

Billy’s uncle had given him wine once.

Billy still remembered

running to the bathroom

to spit it out

while his uncle laughed like a lunatic

Billy had seen once in a movie.

 

“…and in heaven the streets

are cobbled with gold…”

 

Billy couldn’t ride his bicycle on the street

in front of his grandmother’s house

because it was cobbled.

But if it must be cobbled,

why not chocolate?

At least you could eat chocolate.

 

“…and only good little boys and girls

get to go to heaven…”

 

Billy wondered if anyone

would be able to hear

Judy Jefferson screaming

from inside the cinder block box

where the janitors burned their trash

on the playground,

or if anyone would see

Billy running away.

 

Billy knew that he was slowly strangling,

but he dared not fool with his collar

unless he wanted his necktie to fall off again.

 

Jesus hung over the blackboard

looking down on the nun

with sad, swollen eyes;

the blood on his hands

still looked fresh.

Billy couldn’t help but imagine

that Jesus would rather be someplace else.

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