i hear the machinary of my soul slowing begin to warm and rattle and thrum. it makes me want to dance. i remember dancing, so i guess i dont need to dance anymore. i look up. and through my ceiling i see that heaven is full of the ghosts of american astronauts. if i unclench my jaw, i can hear the satelittes singing, but i must not listen. heaven is full of lost transmissions.
the radiowaves of a trillion trillion shows and songs and films and commercials. the white light people say they have seen after a near death experience is actually white noise. i remember being an altar boy and the belief i held close to my heart. so i dont need to believe anymore.
i remember waking up at five years old and seeing a smiling, slightly wet sailor at the foot of my bed. and he was so glowing, that i was not afraid. in the morning, eating cream of wheat in the formal dining room with my great grandmother, i told her about him. and she started to cry. she told me his name was toby. he was her son and he died in the second world war.
i will terraform heaven for toby. i will terraform heaven for all my friends. and for everyone that i have lost here and those that i never got a chance to meet and for those who didnt come with me this time. slowly, the lights begin to come on. i remember the darkness, so i dont need darkness anymore.