Angels

They find me here, a flickering vestige, under incandescent pendulum lighting that was not long ago strung up and tied to the center beam of an old moribund shoestring warehouse with the guilty look of an antiquated aircraft hangar where my voice trails off after my duplicate self-echo pacing a smallish splatch of spotless linoleum surrounded like an occupied island by grey waves of desolate flooring, all out of breath and mired in my brood, my legs dangling over an over -turned aluminum chair, waiting to board their intergalactic alien spacecraft.