heaven drive-in movie theater i didn't mean to be fickle. the angels come to burrow in the fresh dirt. seasons come like worms. i walk the miles needed to find the drive-in where a movie of flowers blooming plays forward & back. i was told by a dead deer on the side of the road that i was dead too. i did not take her word for it. she was too crooked to tell what my feet were walking on. broken mornings bleeding yolk on the kitchen floor. the screen is a bowl of figs. no cars by mine in the audience. i check the backseat for strangers. listen & hope for no videos of myself. all around the forest animals watch too. they ask each other if we get to share the same afterlife or if we all go into our thousands & thousand of caves. lighting a candle just to see the dreamscape. the manna glistening on plates of gold. all for me. we all want to believe we will be rewarded or at least compensated. the angels make shadow puppets & laugh at the ways morals roll their hope down every mountain they can find. i get out of the car & walk towards the screen as a film of my brother & i by the ocean spills so vividly from the screen that i can feel splashes of salt water. then, the film cuts. just my empty bathroom. a centipede meandering across the floor. my shadow cast on the screen. i close my eyes & open my hands as if they might fill with caramel. the dead deer stands up & scatters into the deeper woods where there are entrances to the otherworld everywhere. still, we all have the act of passage. release. i am not dead but i do have conversation with them. turn on my car before the credits. more & more vehicles filling the lot. no where to turn around. shadows inside, eager to see what the projector has to say. abandoning the old car just to walk home along the winding forest roads. in bed that night, the projector finds me. puts a movie on the ceiling as i try to sleep. i tell myself, "i am alive. i am alive."