Kirby Puckett

Kirby Puckett is in this poem
though it's not a poem about Kirby Puckett.
This poem's about a story we've been told,
a story about death and a place we call Heaven.
This is a poem about my father and my brother--
both dead; as is Kirby.
This is a poem about me and you, alive.  
We are alive, here and now,
and today, I choose to believe that heaven story
in order to picture Mike and my dad
and all the other dead Twins fans
waiting at the Pearly Gates, waving homer hankies
and giving Kirby Puckett high fives
as he crosses that final home plate,
hoping someone will be waiting somewhere for me.