My Delinquent Guardian Angel


My Delinquent Guardian Angel

By S. Brown

Abandoned by my guardian angel,
I narrowly avoided disaster:
the errant driver, piano falling from third story
window, thundercloud with its singular

bolt of lightning, all hungered for me in my moment
of weakness. My angel, out to lunch, humming
Astor Piazolla in a Davis Square cafe thinking
of last night’s tango lesson left me unprotected,

left me alone in a world random with disaster.
That I saved myself is testimony to my will
to survive. That I survived is in spite of this lazy,
oblique angel, distracted from his obligations

while thinking of Piazolla’s “Milonga del Angel”
-that lovely song composed in the smoky nightclubs
of 1930s Buenos Aires- or dreaming of the night’s
cappuccino, the evening’s last cigarette,

his leisurely stroll home through the moonlit streets.