I find out that social anxiety exists in heaven

POEM

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I find out that social anxiety exists in heaven

as I float forty spirals of cracked marble, 
the sky mocking me with echoes of  
strangers' voices. Between gates of braided gold, 
my college dorm-mate scans bags for 
earthly contraband. I ask for reassurance that 
I am in the right place. She hands me a food voucher 
I'm unsure how to redeem. I tow my suitcase, sewn with
prescription-less bottles, to the holy orchestra.

I. Lobby

The angels perform my high school ringtone, blowing 
trumpets made of melted watches and unclaimed bones.
The walls swell with the fluorescent lighting of an endless
waiting room. I expected natural lighting in the afterlife. 

A school of souls file ahead of a QR code, scanning 
for today’s special. All they serve are chocolate chip cookies. 
At second glance, all they serve are oatmeal raisin cookies. 
The voucher does not cover sales tax. I did not expect sales tax 
in the afterlife.

II. Cafeteria

Every cloud is fully occupied, except for one 
underneath the waxing moon. A ring of souls sit criss-crossed, 
food trays glinting with starlight. I hear them exchange 
names, pronouns and Top Three Life Moments. 
I settle in the center, within every wrinkle of sight. Their stares 
corkscrew through my skin, now lifeless but full of feeling. 
They await a name, pronouns and life moments I do not know. 
I am homesick for a conversation that never happened, 
nostalgic for a planet that was never a home. 

III. Deck

My cookie dissolves between my fingers before 
it can reach my mouth. Each oat, raisin and grain of dough
trapped in the infinite space between them and me. I pluck 
the hanging bits, one by one, and form Earth on my tray.
Islands of sweet grain among an ocean of shriveled fruit. 
This world of mine, staring back at me, 
now small and harmless.