3...

there is a significance to everything...

3am he drives his jeep

Into the center of the town

He orders coffee

At this local diner

Stranger in this town

He is lonely in his purpose

But he’s used to that

3 blocks down

She tosses restless

In the nest of satin sheets

Smooth fabric

Upon smooth creamy skin

The cold moon

Her nightlight

Offers no comfort

The man scribbles

Senseless words

Scrawled across the white abyss of paper

He doesn’t know where they came from

Only that it covers 3 pages

And that this

Is where he should write them

Then, there are 3 taps

Upon his broad shoulders

The angel awakes

Cooled by the nightmares sweat

She opens the drapes

And takes in

Moonbeams and starlight

Somewhere

Out there

He stands with his rage

There are 3 men

Who don’t like strangers

In their town

Their fists curled

His knuckles tight

And they fight

As if in some violent dance

The man has the upper hand

1 down and 2 to go

Cuts and bruises

Shine upon his haggard face

3 bells chime

And the angel comes in

Two men unconscious

Another in a strangers grip

Face pulped like ground meat

Her hand alight on his shoulders

They slump and loosen

She whispers into his ear

And his teeth unclench

She lays a kiss

Upon his lips

And she drinks the rage within

The man falls to the ground

Losing the anger that fueled him

Laying her hands upon his heart

It beats 3 times

And the crust of madness

Crumbles off

Together they leave

And 3 blocks down

They nestle together

On a bed of feathers

Made from her wings

Remembering each others scent

“where have you been” she asks

The man only looked into her eyes

Blinked 3 times

And answered, “lost”

 

 

Author's Note

at 3am i sat in a 24 hour diner in new york city, i had just been through a divorce and left minnesota to clear my head...new york is an easy place to get lost and i wondered if there was someone out there who needed to find me...but that's all just fairy tales...

Reviews

[Doreen]

You've ruffled feelings here in this. Well done. They say that everything happens for a reason and that there are no accidents. I like this and the thoughts and feelings that it conjures. It has a melancholy feel to it, it breathes of quiet and sadness, and of a painful road that will end in a peaceful place. You've ended this with the perfect words and your author's note lends to the chemistry of the piece. Nice.

[Quinn Blackburn]

Brilliant wordcrafting, my friend! "Scrawled across the white abyss of paper" and
"She lays a kiss Upon his lips And she drinks the rage within" are favorites, but the closing four lines are pure perfection.

[Aven]

what Poetic Justice said... also this is one of your best visuals... really stunning.

[InkSlinger]

I always enjoy the wanderings of a weary mind.. the way the storyteller weaves his magic little spell.. this whole piece takes us on a very personal journey of a man loosing himself... Well done Sir.. Well done..

[KAREN]

Very nice! alittle sexy! Alittle violent! And the time frame perfect touch through out the poem!

[M. Stein]

Wow, this is really amazing. Its chilling.. and thats putting it mildly. I like the stanza "Face pulped like ground meat" as well as the last few. Its a great way to end it. I applaud you, this is marvelous.

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

this was lovely~ a deep touch into the fluid inkwell of your mind~

[Michael of Gilead]

This only works if you were by the staten island ferry....there all things are possible

[deeps]

i like this very thought out and well written

[Kerry O'Connor]

Angels and demons aside, this poem reminds me of the legendary Wild West scenarios, which are so much a part of your country's culture: a brave yet tortured stranger, an empty street, three intractable townsfolk, a woman of the night. A Showdown. What I especially like about it is the translocation of the tale to a modern setting, which tells me that nothing much has changed - only the Times.