You meet all kinds of women in bars,
women far different than women
you meet in church on Sunday
if you're there with your wife
which is why I was surprised to hear
this beautiful woman two stools over
ask me if I believed in angels
before I had ordered a drink.
Well, as a matter of fact, I do,
I said, happy to get the small stuff
out of the way so we could get down
to business, whatever that might be.
What kind of angels do you believe in,
she smiled and asked, sipping a martini.
Well, I believe in seraphim, cherubim,
principalities, thrones, dominations, all
the different choirs of angels
listed in the bible I studied in school.
What about guardian angels, she asked.
Do you believe you have one?
Indeed I do believe I have one, I said,
although I saw no reason why guardian angels
couldn't be women if angels had genders
which as pure spirits they likely don't have.
And what does your guardian angel do,
she inquired, getting rather personal.
I said, well, my guardian angel is busy
from the moment I get up at dawn
till I fall back in the sack at night
because Satan or one of his minions
is always trying to worm his way
into my mind, memory or imagination
trying to get me to do things
forbidden by the Ten Commandments.
For example, whenever I see a beautiful woman,
one devil or other says I should introduce myself
and I always ask my guardian angel if I should
and he always asks me what my wife would say
and I always ask him if I have to tell her
and he always says I should keep walking
while he does what guardian angels do
and knocks the devil hooves over horns
back into Hell, something he does for me
several times a day, especially in Spring
or when I stop at this train station bar
for a Mountain Dew when my commuter is late
and a beautiful woman two stools over
smiles and asks if I believe in angels.