my neighbor, buddhai pass a house with a buddha on the deckwhite ceramic under a blue roofand think everyone should weartheir religion on their porch,every window hold a truth.painted on a wall:"We heardead peoplebut don't believein hell."a little white signscrambling up a ladder:"Heaven this wayno turning back."my porch would displaya brush of maples, starsand crosses carved intotheir skin.a statement:"You haven't liveduntil you've heard trees scream."there would be a tall mirrora reflection almost unnoticedand underneath:"When this soulhas no bodyyou'll continuelooking past me."i'd imagine my neighbor'sscribbled on a door:"This apartmentremains empty."or perhaps a warningon a welcome mat:"No god will everbless this house."
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