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Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Angel Serves Drinks

Angel serves drinks; she’s in a wonderful place,

But her concerns run high when the clowns come to face

She knows Idaho well, has traveled it far,

In late evening she waits on a man with dark scar,

She takes it all in; her intellect’s not thin,

She wonders if the cacophony holds some wisdom within,

Loud customers with rich wallets, but spirit as squalor,

Is her brighter smile really worth another unclean dollar?

That’s why they’re here, to delight drown’d in beer,

No matter how small, she understands every tear,

Absorbing this experience, will be for the best,

Late evening she returns to her beautified nest,

Her name fits her well; as she looks down from above,

Gently serving wine from an ancient carafe,

She prepares nurturing instruments to write this all down,

She starts by wondering about this intellectual clown

1 comment:

Blowing Shit Up With Gas said...

Wait, are "above" and "carafe" supposed to rhyme?