Friday, March 13, 2015

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE BEGINNING AND THE END



It wasn’t the demons; the neighborhood
Was used to demons, rioting in the bars
Or being noisily sick in the alleys.
Demons told jokes. Not good ones, true;
But the angels never seemed even to smile.
A barmaid told me she’d heard them laughing
I doubted this. Drink never made them happy
They’d won the war; God was on their side;
When had they stopped dancing?

No comments:

Post a Comment