Angel's breath

I felt the angel's warm breath

on the back of my neck

but it was just

the laundromat's exhaust.

I spun around hoping

for a guardian and found

a hopeful street walker instead.

There's not much salvation

to be had for fifty bucks,

cooking up a spoonful

or renting a body and a bed.

She said, do you have a date?

and let go of the nubby knee length coat

that she clutched at her throat.

Underneath, her dress

barely reached her thighs.

I already have one, I lied.

trying to hide my naivete and pride.

If I'd listened to my body

and not the fires in my head,

I would have received a lesson

about the fusion of two warm bodies

instead of Edward Teller's cold vision

of fission products and isotopes,

countdowns, kilotons, trajectories,

and the price of primo Afghan dope.

I said, I'm just waiting for my bus.

She just smiled and replied,Sure honey,

but if it don't work out, I'll be right here

to take you somewhere where

it's really nice and warm inside.

But the ride I was on took longer,

and the breath that I felt

was no angel's but mine.