Touring the Hereafter

Our Triple-A branch, I was thrilled to learn,

Now takes tourists to Heaven and Hell

Since any day now I’ll be ashes in an urn

I thought I’d see which rings my bell

Heaven, top to bottom, is a pristine place

Cozy cottages with white picket fences

All wear long gowns that are trimmed in white lace

Best of all, they are charged no expenses

The first day in Heaven one is given a harp

Lawrence Welk composed all of the tunes

Cous-cous and kale at six o’clock sharp

For breakfast, poached eggs and dried prunes 

All the radios in Heaven play NPR

People meditate and then do Tai Chi

Heavenly melodies float from afar

Tiny toddlers might sit on your knee  

Finished with my tour, Hell became my next stop  

The dwellings, not so fancy, I’d say

People gobble Big Macs, drink sugary pop

Then torture newcomers all day

The residents of Hell play poker all night

And do other stuff we’d call risky

They write poems with metaphors totally trite

While besot with too much Irish whiskey

           

All the TVs in Hell are set to play porn

Strangers dance the quickstep while nude 

I never saw anyone looking forlorn

One can’t be forlorn when they’re lewd

I’m having some difficulty making up my mind

Of course Heaven is seamlessly nice 

But Hell, I found out, is unfairly maligned

It’s so sad to pass by such fine vice