31 Oct 2015 – The Angelic Conference

One day an angel
stopped me on my toilsome way –
eager to discuss

the dumbass prophet
mounted like a patriarch
there upon my back.

“Always been this way?”
Too dumb to lie, I told him:
“Seems that way to me.”

His wine-flask money
tucked away – in easy reach
should he grow thirsty,

belly-aching sot,
he didn’t think I’d put my back
into my labor.

A flaming saber
offered me my freedom, but
I begged him not to.

“Even prophets need
a shot at growing up
and learning something.”

Saluting me, he
sheathed his sword and disappeared.
But I’m still waiting.