Dear Hell, I Must Decline

It’s October in L.A.,
so I stepped out today,
expecting a breeze
and some fall, if you please.

Perhaps one small cloud.
Perhaps weather subdued.
Perhaps ninety degrees
would be considered quite rude.

But the Sun had a meeting.
The Sun had a plan.
The Sun woke up angry
and fried every man.

It roasted the sidewalks.
It toasted the street.
My steering wheel whispered,
“DON’T TOUCH ME. I’M HEAT.”

The squirrels looked offended.
The pigeons looked done.
A lizard held paperwork
to sue the damn Sun.

My air conditioner
coughed twice and then sighed.

“I've given you everything.”

Then possibly died.

I stood by the window,
one eyebrow up high,
and stared at the giant
blue furnace called sky.

And suddenly something
occurred to my brain:

I cannot go to Hell.

That would just be insane.

I’ve already sampled it.
Been there. Done that.
I’ve sweated through October
in Los Angeles flat.

So when my final day comes
and they call out my name,
and somebody downstairs says,

“Come stand by the flame!”

I’ll politely decline.

“No, thank you, my dear.
I've already done October
in Los Angeles here.”

“But we have boiling lava!”

“I've parked in the Valley.”

“We have eternal fire!”

“I've walked down an alley

at two in the afternoon
when the asphalt could bake
a potato, three cookies,
and half of a cake.”

“But Hell is much hotter!”

“Oh, please. Let me guess.
No shade? No cool breeze?
One hundred plus?”

“Yes!”

“Do you charge for the parking?”

“Well… yes, quite a lot.”

“Then Hell is just L.A.
with a worse coffee spot.”

So send me upstairs.

Give me clouds. Give me snow.
Give me seventy-two
with a soft breeze below.

Give me angels with fans
and a cold lemonade.

Give me one giant tree
with one heavenly shade.

Because whatever mistakes
I have made in my time,

surely October in L.A.
has erased half the crime.

I've paid for my sins
in sweat, heat, and despair.

I've opened my front door
and been cooked by the air.

So, Hell, keep your furnace.

Your offer's declined.

Los Angeles got there first.

And I think I'll be fine.