To visit her, I had to learn
how to fly, which came easily,
I stood on tiptoes, and up I went.
A streetcar wind let me on.
Peggy lolled in a huge white cloud.
I asked how she got there—
she didn’t know. She said she kept
expecting God to come by and
welcome her to the neighborhood,
but God never even sent a butler.
At least it wasn’t North Dakota.
She still loved to sing,
accompanied by the sun’s yellow piano.
She didn’t miss fame or fans. Earth
seemed like something you get over,
like a fever. Infinity, a practical joker,
made her laugh. She no longer sings
“Mañana” since tomorrow drops often
and yesterday never does.
Kenneth Pobo has a new book out called The Antlantis Hit Parade. Forthcoming is his book called Dindi Expecting Snow.