Believing In Angels
I woke up in the front yard this morning.
I had built a statue to all that is
Made from materials from my garage
Garden hoses, barbecue pits you name it.
It reached towards the sky like the Tower of Babylon
It almost reached the treetops,
Which I had been in most of the night
Swaying in the wind on a full moon night
With a case of beer hanging from the limbs
And my monkey like toes gripping the branches.
I drank with Bacchanalian abandon
It was the best of times…
Sometime during the night
The neighbors called the law
Apparently they didn’t like my version of Red Headed Stranger,
But hell I was red headed and I felt a bit strange.
They asked me to come down and I invited them up for a beer
A stalemate if you will.
I promised not to “sing” and they left me to my own devices.
Once they left I abandoned my lofty position
And continued to work on my art.
It was beautiful to behold
It reached towards the night like a beacon searching for angels
Some time during the night my angel called me
And said she didn’t understand my cause
That’s when I stopped believing in angels
And started believing in me.
Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2014
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