Man of happiness

Morgan sat in front of the Safeway for an hour before her mother called. Her Support our Troops sign still stood and her donation box was half-full. Pure devious genius, that’s how her father described it when he pulled her closer to whisper the idea, his breath moistening her lobe.

She brushed her hair back behind an ear and smiled as a smirking man placed a can of Green Giant, cream-style corn in her box.

He stared from behind a set of dim blue eyes. His lips quivered as if he wanted to say something.

She looked away and raised an eyebrow, leaving the smile on her face to be polite, but praying he didn’t ask for her number. The guy puffed a disappointed laugh through his nose before he walked off into the parking lot.

Her smile faded to a frown as the man left, and she picked up the can of food. Ugh, I hate cream corn. Couldn’t he give something better?

She tossed the corn back in her box and it clonked against another metal can. She took out her cell phone to check the time, but just holding the device caused her mother’s sobbing words to echo in her head.

The end.  Exeunt his seed to the fanfare of horns and a choir of angels—his angels, his angel, crooning louder and louder with every thrust of his hips.  Shrink the iris to a thin band as the pupils swell to black saucers; dig those claws into the fleshy pads of her shoulders and drag them down her length.  Winch the brow’s musculature high and taut, skin pulled into ridges like bunched cloth—sweaty, oily cloth, hung above a ridiculous face.   The fact is, he doesn’t care how his face looks right now, not one bit.  His back arcs, moonlight shadows splayed on the sun-mottled skin of middle age, and Abel thinks for a second, as his life flashes before his eyes, does she feel it?  Because it’s not a sunset and it’s not William Butler Yeats; it’s animal simplicity like feeling cold or hot or hungry, but she’s not an animal and she really doesn’t eat.  And while he’s and engineer by trade, while he’d built her from scratch with the sweat of his back and calloused fingertips, he just couldn’t concentrate on her workings as he shuddered with fulfillment.

An utterance of affirmation as the prostate spasms, how romantic; she even knew to cradle him gently to her breast, without even knowing why.

The cycle has grown shorter, but have the lessons been learned?
The way forward is unclear not wanting to get burned

Angel-eyes opened wide to see the vicious cycle up and down
Grasping for a rip-cord to slow this spiral toward the ground

Will it be this time that it all crashes and burns?
Or be like the past, avoiding ground zero with a slight upward turn

Clouded eyes cannot see any soft place to land
No bed of feathers prepared over the harsh dessert sand

Hurt feelings are inevitable – it is the burden to be paid
Not living a precious life – a decision to be weighed

A cauldron of fire across the only path which lies ahead
Every moment of hesitation heightens the sensation of being dead

Like a phoenix rises from the ashes, the angel will eventually too
With the sun at her back and wings spread wide, aloft against a sky of deepest blue

An angel appeared before him
A figure bathed in light
Golden curls adorned her head
Eyes shining clear and bright

She was a welcome interruption
His life desperate for repair
A gift from God he knew at once
To lead him from despair

Her soul an endless repository
Full of love for the broken boy
His sense of self awakened
Overflowing with sudden joy

Before long her image haunted him
From the darkness a demon lurked
Perception no longer reliable
Convoluted delusions at work

Golden curls slithered and hissed
Eyes shifted from blue to red
The bright light that surrounded her
Transformed to flames instead

To survive he must destroy her
A battle he must not lose
Bury the angel In disguise
Or risk the right to choose

The first blow met with silent pleas
Blood dripping from his hand
He raised his sword and burrowed deep
Convinced of God’s command

A flutter of wings broke the silence
A slight breeze against his skin
To his dismay his opponent rose
And returned to her origin

His transgression fully realized
Noiseless tears began to fall
Mindful of his broken dreams
She was an angel after all

                                   -Tina Krawczyk