pistachio heaven

the boy, haven fallen
from a playground swing,
finally awakened
after being in a deep
coma for three days.
his family gathered
around him in happy
tears. his sister, who
had pushed him too
fast and too hard held
his hand, stroking
it gently. timmy is
awake, she shouted.
timmy is awake. timmy
opened his eyes and said,
why are you screaming?
I'm right here.
how do you feel, the
parents asked pulling
the freckled face
sister aside. I'm fine,
the boy said, but I
think I went to heaven.
it was all white and
shiny. clean and bright
and there was this nice
music, like an ice cream
shop. oh really, the mother
said, the little girl
edged her way back
to the side of the bed.
yes. and there was this
man with a beard
and long hair,
but it was pulled back
into a net and he was
serving ice cream
with a larger silver scooper.
that must have been
jesus the little girl
yelled out. jesus
was giving timmy
ice cream. go on, go
on the father said.
he kept giving me
scoops and scoops of
pistachio ice cream,
my favorite of all time
on a large cone. I hate
pistachio the girl
cried out. that's all
they had? no cherry, no
chocolate? what a gyp
heaven is. that stinks.
I don't want to go
heaven. which made
timmy sit up and say,
from what i heard i
don't think you have to
worry about that.