Believing In Angels

I woke up in the front yard this morning. I had built a statue to all that is Made from materials from my garage Garden hoses, barbecue pits you name it. It reached towards the sky like the Tower of Babylon It almost reached the treetops, Which I had been in most of the night Swaying in the wind on a full moon night With a case of beer hanging from the limbs And my monkey like toes gripping the branches. I drank with Bacchanalian abandon It was the best of times… Sometime during the night The neighbors called the law Apparently they didn’t like my version of Red Headed Stranger, But hell I was red headed and I felt a bit strange. They asked me to come down and I invited them up for a beer A stalemate if you will. I promised not to “sing” and they left me to my own devices. Once they left I abandoned my lofty position And continued to work on my art. It was beautiful to behold It reached towards the night like a beacon searching for angels Some time during the night my angel called me And said she didn’t understand my cause That’s when I stopped believing in angels And started believing in me.