"You think you've got it figured out," said a fat man.

I looked at him, a little puzzled by why he was fat. I mean, surely when you die, you don't have to be fat anymore.

"It's how you see yourself," said the fat man. "You know how people said, 'inside every fat person there's a thin person struggling to get out'? Not true. It's just another fat guy in there. In fact, usually a fatter guy."

"Can you lose weight?" I asked, because at least it was a conversation with somebody who wasn't trying to get wafted up into heaven or deeper into hell. And also it was kind of funny.

"You can look thinner," said the fat guy, "if you start to think of yourself as thin."

"So why can't you think of yourself as good, and get on up into heaven?"

He shook his head. "Those street preachers, they aren't thinking ofthemselves as good. They're thinking of themselves as righteous. Saved. Chosen."

"Better than everybody else."

"Bingo. Ditto with the bad dudes and the tough girls. They're needy, all of them, and needy doesn't get you off the street. Needy is what gets you on the street."

"If you've got it all figured out," says I, "what are you still doing here?"

"I'm conflicted," he said. "A common problem. Whenever I start going one direction, I do something to send me back the other." He grinned. "While you, you're talented."

Talented? "I'm not the one reading minds here. I mean, you've been answering stuff I didn't say."

"Yeah, I've got good hearing. I don't have to wait for you to speak. Because, you know, it's not like we actually have voices. We just sort of wish our thoughts to be heard, and then people close by can hear them. But your thoughts are actually just as loud, so to speak. So yeah, I can hear stuff. But you, you can see things."

I looked around. "No more than anybody else."

"Nope, nope, not so. I watched you. Crossing the street. You waited for the light."