Through a rift in the atmosphere, found with a purpose
still so enthralled, the angel crawls
to the edge of the night
and looks down
Hell is as much a metaphor in heaven as it is on Earth
“Close enough” he decides, as he surveys what he’s found
Earthly delights are what he’s after
smoking and drinking, music and laughter
He thinks himself a rogue player
wandering adventurer
heartbreaking slayer
The ladies adore his rugged handsomeness
irresistible charm
his smooth caress
With wings folded tight he can blend right in
with the cacophony of celebration
the nightlife and parties
the sin
He grows bored with heaven
all its pureness so tame
craves soiled imperfections
the struggle, the game
Which is why he often finds himself
in a lovely stranger’s bed
enjoying earthly pleasures
letting his passions be fed
Sometimes his wings are discovered
with shocked delight and glee!
but until the morning light
they are difficult to see
Which is why before the dawn returns
he must make his exit swift
his lover sleepily calling, “Gabe...”
as his wings give him lift