Fallen angels..

Fallen Angels..

In the lair of the fallen angels. Old men talk of fleeing love, old war and missed faces.

I joined the club at a young age. Bad decisions, dead brothers and greed in love made me turn old and cold. I was used-up and I knew old man wisdom too soon.

We had the women with us too. Women can get dirty and wasteful too. The entrance of the Purgatory is wide open and anyone is free to enter.

The music of Elvis, Johnnie Cash, Willie and Hank is being sang for us. Here in Austin, Texas. A lot of fallen angel are waiting for nothing.

Jenny from Belton, Texas. She told me. Cold hearten are we. Once you told me I was pretty and sweet but you won’t go home with me. I looked at her flowing auburn hair and  low-cut blouse allowing me to see robust breasts. Her  crossed legs not hiding her perfect long Texas girl legs. Her short and tight black skirt allowed my mind to wander and wish.

I reached over and I kissed her and I told her. You don’t want my whiskey kisses. Once I believed love was life. Life was love. The dignity of love was defaced. Do you want to dance with a dead man in heart and hope? She laughed at my words. Wrapped her arms around me and she sang a song into my right ear.

“Bitter branches are we. Once we were deep roots in the fresh and healthy soil of life. Now we are slowly dying. Our song turn bittersweet. You are me and I’m you. Just strangers dancing to old songs and harden memories.”

I embraced her. I inhaled her perfume of the wildflower in her hair and tender neck. I told her. Can the casualty of consumption and wasteful attempts at love. Can they know peace?

Jenny pushed me away and she caressed my face. She told me. Come a-time where we need to feed the flesh and hope for some laughter. Us fallen angels at the Purgatory Inn know one thing. Love is hard, ain’t cheap and we will pay for every kiss and embrace.

I ordered two more Long Island ice tea and I told her. Sweet Jenny, I will be honored to have your company. I have no place to go and maybe we can find the light of some kind of hope. Jenny smiled. She laid her head upon my shoulder and we allowed Hank and Willie to take us to the dance floor and better places..

                                 Coyote/John Castellenas

© 2015 Coyote Poetry