I am mystic, thief, madman, all that, considerably more, never begging, always taken what is arrayed before me favor curried, passage guaranteed coins gathered, stored so there are none to cover the eyes or pay the ferryman’s wages. I can turn wine to water and hide fish in the midst of loaves, the trick is to distract you so the order is reversed, a sleight unseen. I am truly the prodigal son vaudevillian and fall guy and the spikes are a bitch but the view is something to behold.
I stooped and spoke to a stone, asking the question. I was here before you arrived and I will be her long after you leave. I held the sand in my hand warm from the sun, asking the question. I came after your arrived and I will leave long before you are gone. I held the winter wind on the tip of a finger, asking the question. I am not here now and I have never been here. I touched the waters to my lips, asking the question. I was above you when you came and I will be below you when you go. I saw the flames dance before me, asking the question. You were ashes once and you shall be ashes again. I stood mired in the clay clinging to my legs, asking the question. It is of me you were formed and it is to me you will return. I sat at the foot of God blinding light, asking the question. You cried to me at birth and you will cry to me at death.
He says he is waiting patiently for the arrival of heaven on earth.
He is not sure what that will be like and the descriptions he has seen are too fantastical to be believed, all clouds and angels and music
He is hoping the things he loves most will be available in heaven, a good Alfredo sauce and German chocolate cake, for two, but heaven should be Starbucks-free, since he will be able to drink espresso at any hour, for you have no need of sleep in heaven.
Until that moment comes, he will sit for hours in the neighborhood Starbucks because of its free wifi and search for the best top ten lists of ways to avoid hell and where you can get wifi and a good decaf espresso.