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?
