This Particular Morning

What exactly does it mean to be righteous?
How does one get there?
Is it a matter of making the right (un)informed choices?
What made my choices so different from his
that led me here this particular morning?

By all external measures
happy
brooding inside
over things I could not control.

This morning found me in a church parking lot
putting in a prayer request
at a church I would never attend
to a congregation
I would never meet.

What could it hurt?
Maybe magic existed
in forms other than
music, birth and life.

Which made the situation feel
even more egregious
what a waste of all things precious
so that rich men could get fat
on our ignorance.

He’d allowed himself to become a pawn
in their dope game
and all I could do now
was hope (pray?) for positive results
to emerge
from what I considered
to be a massive mistake
on so many (cosmic?) levels.

My brother,

you may be in hell now
but I know
that you can escape.
Pleasant thoughts await your return
Blue Bell Ice Cream
cream cheese pie
and mom’s mediocre pot roast,
dice games at the casino
poker with the fellas,
dollar bills at the strip clubs
and fine shoes and fancy threads.
Keep it together
stay focused
and you’ll be home soon.

We love you.
You’re not the only one in hell.

~Edward Austin Robertson