En Route To Heaven's Gate, Next Stop - Bus Lobby Church

At a bus stop lobby I wait for my ride to Heaven's Gate. Poet WS Merwyn drops by. He gives me a personal reading of his poems. He’s got many poems with powerful one-line grabbers at the end. That Merwyn, he’s got a real good closer-trick going on there. Salespeople could make good money if they closed deals like he closes the trap on your attention.

While WS Merwyn reads, Country Western singer Trace Adkins glides by on a Rose Bowl parade float. He is playing "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk", with proper background dancers in sprayed-on bluejeans. He then starts playing his old hit, “Chrome” and points at me. Shooting a magic twitch into my fingers, Trace lets me play for 30 minutes.

Now I can play guitar like I always wanted. Versus "play at" which is mostly what I do with lots of things. But now I play so well that everybody including hardshell Baptists get up in bus lobby to dance. We all have a great time, even the hardshell Baptists - who figure after this gig is over, they will have to repent big time.

But not repent entirely, though if it was all up to them they would double pure, double sure. Before they can finish their explaining, St Peter at Gate would interrupt. St Peter would say what was the problem anyway, and why didn't they tip the band? 'Cause they wuz really smokin' that night, especially that guest guitar player. Is he with you, I want to talk with him.

Night drops into the bus dock and washes in deep blue ink in the sky above my head. My bus finally pulls up. Time to go on the next leg of my journey. Bus doors open with a hissing swish that could sound evil, but don't. Music from ZZ Top pours out of the overhead speakers.

As I get on board for my next destination, a Thomas Tallis 40-voice English motet is playing in my iPod earbuds. A bit of entranced enchantment settles on my face. Right quick before the final stage of trance I wake up and smell cheap coffee from the bus lobby diner. The smell of burnt cheap coffee is like the smell of burnt out souls, it keeps me from slipping too far into a vapid trance. Keeps me in the plain old here and now. Or what's left of it, this close to Heaven's Gate. Things get ethereal the further you get from Earth and the closer to Heaven. Ever try to hug smoke? Not an easy thing to do.

Down the bus aisle, I see someone reading the very same book I am carrying. One that I am planning to read; and I might even finish it this time (probably Don Quixote). Lotsa time to pass in eternity, so my stack of unfinished books will get whittled down soon. I take a chance to sit alongside this person. This time it works out great, I listen to her and finish one more book by hearing the cliff notes first hand. Before the night fades into day, one more friend is made on the multi-stop ride to Heaven's Gate.

I am hungry for some chow, but by music and friendly connection, my soul's been fed. That's bread that used to I knew not of and did not partake of near enough before I came to Bus Lobby Church. Those days of starvation by hesitation are long one, since now I am en route to the Diner of Heavenly Delight. Still, I wonder if deep fried Twinkies in Heaven hang from every tree, and if there are vending fees before you pluck one down.

Hey I did tip the band before I got onto the bus. Tipped them right good. Nothing for me to worry about come time to talk with St Peter.

Not that I know about, anyhow.