Coffee and Cigarettes

An angel sat down beside me,

lit a cigarette,

and stared at nothing.

I drank my coffee in the silence

of an unremarkable morning.

He put out his first,

and lit another,

offered me one,

and I accepted.

I hadn’t smoked in a long time,

but Death makes men do

the unexpected.

 

A waitress came by

to fill my cup,

I nodded

and flicked away my ashes.

Coffee and cigarettes

never go out of fashion.

 

Finally,

he turned his head and spoke,

his words were whispers

from a choir.

A thousand voices

from one mouth

calling me home,

over and over.

 

His eyes blazed

with holy fire,

the kind that strips away the skin,

and sees deep in to your soul,

and knows your sorrow and your sin.

 

He stood up

and gestured with his hand,

down the street where I was going.

I finished my coffee,

crushed out my cigarette

and stepped out into the unknowing.

 

I left a tip

upon the table,

of every cent I ever made,

every word I ever spoke,

and every price I ever paid.

 

If you were on the street that morning,

you would have seen me walk alone,

up into the sky above us,

the day an angel led me home.

 

HG – 2020

 

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