THE HEAVEN THAT BECAME A HELL
There was a red brick patio.
It stretched out into a lawn,
And below was this splendid view of the vineyards
Which surrounded the house on three sides.
Rose bushes grew out of large wooden pots,
Pink and yellow and red.
That’s where I’d sit each evening,
Watching the sun fall behind a distant sheep field.
Sometimes, if I was lucky, I had a bottle.
Other times I had a box.
I’d look around and sniff the pure air,
Listen to the chirps of the birds.
Everything was perfectly peaceful,
And I considered that place to be a heaven.
The days went by.
And so did the nights.
And soon enough I got tired of that place.
I got bored of that heaven,
And when you get bored of heaven
It soon becomes hell.
I began to count down the days.
I began to make plans to move on,
To get outta there.
“oh, what the hell will I do about this?”
I kept asking myself.
“will I keep rushing around this world forever,
east and west, north and south?
Will nothing stop me but death?”
I took another hit from the red,
And supposed that it was true.