Angel of Death
Closing time. The last eight ball slammed into the right, corner pocket. Beers were drained, and money slapped down on the sweaty table––we were ravenous, cast out into the streets past midnight and looking for greasy hash browns, chicken and waffles.
You slid out of the taxi as if you’d fallen from the sky. I turned around and there you were. I was thinking about food when you dropped into my life, into all our lives. You––with your stomping boots and flowered dress.
Allister said you were an angel; a street angel come to save us. I said there was no such thing––but I was wrong. You with your violin case and love of gin, you said you came to save us all. We bought it, hook and line. We lapped it up, even when you lead us down the dark alley, your hair billowing like the wings you unfurled.
When our world ended, you took us gently, into your version of night. You, the angel of death.
Excuse me, really??? Just EXCUSE ME! For f__K sake, you have just got to be kidding me here. I got goosebumps everywhere. I totally went for it, all of it, the stomping boots, the flowered dress, I saw it all. But I didn’t see that ending coming. Slammed! Right into that wall going 90 miles an hour I’m sittin’ here with my mouth open.
The detail in this little ditty is amazing. I truly felt the night. I felt young and hot and tired and hungry and then taken in by the girl in the taxi as only a young man can be. But the violin case and gin, that’s just rich detail.
It is funny, right, we never do see the end coming. Keep writing, please…
I mean doesn’t every girl need stomping boots, flowered dress, and violin case? And the gin drinking goes without sayin…
Glad I could give you goosebumps, Michelle!