I’m Ten Days Early And Two Days Late

[Michael Angell]

January 16, 2015



I’m ten days early and two days late, the usual,
The sun is setting, I’m ash in your presence and
yet, someone’s still trying to sell me a Crematorium,

I awoke this morning from the anxiousness within
a dream,
This reality is wedded to something surreal,

We feel it sometimes in the quietness of a funeral
procession or a groom that’s late for his wedding,
How the Pastor stands, eyeing his congregation’s
buried jungle-appetite for the possible no-show’s
dignity and ancestral health,

Something stirs, several throats clear, feet shuffle,
a few people are reading hymn-books as if they
could be cookbooks in disguise,
I’m almost there, have faith in me darling, I’ve got
the rings and I’ve hijacked the Mayor’s Range Rover
to make my own road to you, since there’s a landslide
of epic-disproportion on Route 66,
Frodo and Samwise are probably still waiting to be air-lifted,

I’ve trespassed twelve times and broken down six
fence lines, the bumper guard on these things are
incredible and the all-wheel-drive button is no joke,
Please remind me not to open anything that’s carbonated
nestled in our picnic-basket,

The stain glass windows were created and installed
by my Grandfather and there’s a secret cornerstone
bearing his baby footprints and initials somewhere on
the West-side of the church,

We’re rehearsed this day for eons,
I know it feels like I’m testing your patience,
But believe me, we’ve got a secret third party
that’s steering this thing,

I’ve arrived and everyone sighs a sigh of relief,
The fairies in the hollow oak out back do too,
While the devils and angels on my shoulders are
singing and dancing together,
It’s days like this that religion looses its formal-mind
and mermaids comb the hair of harpies,

You turn and smile,
Do you hear the sirens in the background getting closer?
I’m surrounded by lovers and so many good lawyers,
We’re safe,
We’re in love and staying that way,

The sun appears out from behind thick storm-clouds,
Our church begins to disappear, the I do’s are wreathed
in lapis lazuli, lavender, lodestones, lingams and quiet
listening,
Only the Range Rover remains,
With the same mileage on it as when it was parked in
the Mayor’s driveway and not a scratch to be seen,

We’re in love and staying that way.

_____________

2015 Michael Angell