‘How do the angels get to sleep
when the devil leaves
the porch light on?’

          ~Tom Waits, "Mr Siegal,"
               Heartattack and Vine

A warm day
down on the bay …
the gulls dipped
and dodged
upon a warm 
southwest wind…
the smell of  gulf brine
filled my nose…
clung to my hair…
to my damp clothes…
kids played
in the fountain
their laughter distant
yet unmistakable…

I sat on a teak wood
and wrought iron bench
a neo-Victorian design…
I was eating 
a greasy gyro…
drinking a raspberry tea…
nothing on my mind…
nowhere to go…
nothing to do…
me and the day
in melodious phase…
an oh so rare
synchronicity…

Death 
moved up the sidewalk…
her hips swaying
within a tight
red satin dress…
black fishnet stockings
flashed an acre of flesh
from the high slit at the hip…
her nine inch heels 
clicked her approach…
the other strollers
on the sidewalk
failed to take note…
not a good sign
I thought to myself…

I must say
I expected different…
she was movie star gorgeous
long red hair
and eyes as green
as the water
in the Caribbean…
not a skeletal apparition
in a hooded robe
carrying an ominous
reaper’s scythe…

she slid smoothly
and gracefully
onto the bench at my side…
of course I’d seen her, 
but didn’t bother 
to look her way…
I continued to chew
the tender chunks of lamb
slipping between aging teeth…
waiting for the scythe
to drop…

‘hi, Mr. A.’ she purred,
‘bet you wonder 
who I am?’
I finished, swallowed…
‘oh, I think
I know who you are,’
I replied, 
‘it’s what you want
that has me questioning
your appearance on
this particular bench’…

she giggled
and slid closer…
‘oh, how curious of you,’
she answered, 
adding,
‘why, 
I’m here to see you,
of course!’…
her cheerful tone 
was at best disturbing…

I felt rather good…
my cholesterol was
a touch over the line,
but other than a bit
of weight around
the middle,
I still felt I had 
a good 20 years left
on this creaking frame…

‘hmm , I take it then
that it’s…my time?’
I asked, brushing a bit of
gyro from my lap…

‘well…
[she chuckled]
you might call it your…
‘two minute warning’…
you know sweetie…
“check please!”…
“bring the car around”
“burn my clothes I’m
going to….”
well, you get the picture,
don’t you?…
[she chuckled again]

she smiled a fixed
and frightening smile
revealing
a mouth full
of perfect pointed
pearl white teeth
hidden behind full
glistening crimson lips…
she smelled of 
honey, sweet lavender,
sulfur, and dusty age…

I sipped long 
at the cold tea, 
thinking this was it…
heart attack, 
lightning strike,
choking on a gyro…
so many possibilities…
so little time…
what a cosmic comedy…
wondering 
where the hell 
my life had gone…
or was going…

the beautiful Lady Death
was sitting
here on my bench…
on this beautiful day…
trying to seduce me…
trying to call me
into the light…
it may seem normal
to some…
but not to me…
a little odd…
a little funny…
but nowhere near 
normal…

yet it was appealing…
she did have a charm
that could lead a man
right off the tallest bridge…
or right into
the waiting engine blast
of a 747 at full throttle…

yet with the arrival
of a new presence 
these thoughts suddenly
became secondary…

a paunchy man in 
a Hawaiian shirt
pushed his way 
in between myself 
and the fair fem fatale
Ms. Death. …

my bench had become
irritatingly crowded…

he smelled 
of a base lifestyle…
a number of
spur of the moment
meals clung to him
in pieces…
he exuded 
a multitude of aromas…
fruit flies and house flies
were buzzing and feeding
in harmony…
my new  friend
was unconcerned…
he only grinned…

he was the 
stereotypical 
picture of a beach bum…
a disheveled wreck
in worn khaki shorts,
split flip flops,
rainbow mirrored
sport shades tethered
on a ‘Zig-Zag’ strap
that hung around his neck…
his crowning statement
was a head topped by a
bright floral headband
encircling a 
blossoming globe
of kinky blonde curls…
the headband looked
remarkably like one
of my father’s
cheesy old ties…
he could have been
36 or 58
I couldn’t tell…
I imagined
it really didn’t matter…

with one hand 
he chewed hungrily
at a foot long hot dog…
it splattered juice
and relish
with every new bite…

in the other he balanced
a large plastic cup full
of frothy beer…
which he had slopped
all over his shirt
and grungy shorts
as he’d flopped down
on the bench…

‘hey dude, what’s shakin’?’
he said through a mouth
full of mustard, onions,
and kosher hot dog…
he sounded like a
Surftoons character
right off of Venice Beach…

Lady D scowled
and leaned away from
our new arrival…
and refused to say a word…
hoping he’d quickly go away…

trying to hang on to my
end of the park bench,
I replied, 
‘Not much shakin’ sport,
but a bit of bakin’…
with more intense bakin’
comin’ my way soon!’
I added,
‘if she has her way’…

Lady  D looked around at
the interloper and grinned
a fright mask grin…
the kind of grimace
that could turn
a man to stone!…

he didn’t bother to l00k up…
took a slug of beer
and answered,
‘ah, she’s all charm
and no substance,’
said the stranger,
‘I would pay her no mind’…

she turned red
and scowled even worse…
I think I saw steam
coming from her nostrils
and ears…

‘I’m workin’ here!…
an you’re crowdin’ 
my style!’ she said,
grinding her teeth…

I asked him,
‘you know who you’re
dealing with there,
don’t you?’…
hearing him taunt her
was like watching
someone tease 
a rattlesnake with a stick…

‘oh I know,’
he replied flatly…

‘OH HE KNOWS!’
she echoed…

‘if you’re not interested
in what she’s selling…
tell her to piss off!’
our bench mate 
mumbled 
through the relish…

she audibly growled…
low in her throat…

‘you mean it’s that easy?’
I questioned…
a little amazed
at the simplicity of his answer…

‘yep…if you don’t wanna’ take
an over heated vacation 
in Hades then just tell
her to shove it,’
he said
while grinning
from beneath a
frothy moustache 
of beer suds…

he added…
‘besides,
it’s not your time, dude’

I heard 
the ‘diva of death’
grinding hear teeth…
she snapped,
‘DAMN, 
you had to
tell him THAT!’

she growled
and leapt to her feet…
some Latin litany
spilled from her lips
making her sound
like one of those
angry Puerto Rican girls
on a street corner in 
New York…

I watched her
pleasantly round
posterior bounce
as she took several
quick steps
away from us…

then in a puff
of pale sulfurous smoke
she disappeared on
the afternoon breeze…
no one seemed 
to notice her leaving…
just the saggy baggy angel
and myself…

he finished his dog
then turned to eye
the remnants of my gyro…
‘you gonna’ finish that?’
he queried…

‘yes, I’m gonna’ finish it!’
I responded…
adding indignantly, 
‘did you ever think that
maybe I could have
handled her on my own?’…

‘he man,
that wasn’t a she…
it was the angel of death…
he snickered,
‘and in spite of
your bad, bad self…
you’re welcome!’

I sat staring transfixed
at the point she
had vanished…

he rose to his feet…
straightened his
Hawaiian print shirt…
burped long and soundly…
gave an offhanded wave
and then strolled away
singing Buffet’s 
‘Margaritaville’…
his sandals flapped
a rhythm on the 
sidewalk…

I turned to see
him shimmer into vapor
as two ugly kids on 
skateboards whizzed
through him…
stirring his residue
back into the ether…

I went back
to  the remnants
of the gyro…
sipping the tea…
watching the sunlight
play through the 
fronds on a tall
Imperial Palm…
thinking to myself…

‘I guess that’s why
folks say that 
life isn’t fair…
I think she and I
could have had
something 
very special together’…

02/05/2007

Author's Note: We all have this love/hate relationship with our mortality...mine just keeps popping up on the page and tickling the hell out of me! (LOL!) See what I mean?

Posted on 02/06/2007
Copyright © 2024 Rusty C Arquette