Vapors seem to rise
from your last note,
this line glowing:
“I accept your ‘offer.'”
an urgent response
to your Catholic
I have just played
into your hands.
Okay, consider this
just a prelude,
a first gasp of disbelief
at contentious narratives
of heaven down to hell,
holy carrots and sticks.
You often end your notes and letters adding I remain in your prayers
daily. Please, I do not want your prayers…even if you think I need them.
Remember, we who believe Buddha’s non-sectarian words are God-free.
Gotama taught meditation, learning by experience, left prayers to prayers.
If funerals are for the living rather than dead, perhaps, prayers are dying
sentences. Harsh, but stay with me. I need something more tangible, since
living; you can have your way with me when I am dead; how could I resist
you then? If you really wish me well, when we eat at your choice T Bone
Diner, after respectfully watching you pray, remember me; forget the bacon.
Until next time,