When I Go to Hell

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When I Go to Hell

I’ll be an event planner
or open a bed & breakfast.
I’ll wait for people to return my calls
and I’ll be cc’d on everything.

On the other side of each wall
a TV blares.
Every night is open mic night,
the only empty seats are in the front row.

Never alone
I’m always within earshot
of parents telling toddlers good job
when they eat some crackers

or looking disappointed and speaking
sarcastically to their teenagers.
On the porch loud men tell stories
about humiliating their subordinates.

There are no seasons and plenty of parking.
No meals, just snacks.
Between shopping for Christmas presents
and judging poster contests

we gather for Satan’s PowerPoint,
then break into sweaty groups
to list goals and objectives
on big pieces of white paper.