William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Ghosts and Angels

Walking the downtown streets on a winter afternoon, every brick familiar,

Smiling to myself at the sheer number of doors I’ve tried and shops I’ve entered,

At each set of stairs leading up from the sidewalk to sundry offices and rooms,

And at the strange wealth of memories that come unbidden,

The nerves, the tension, the fear (all of it precious and love always near),

The glory of press time, the lost bank account, the deadline sale,

The bakery where a small piece of warm buttered bread is free to anyone,

Cinderella schools and quaint photographers, the ancient Russian ballet teacher,

Pigeons on the window ledge of the third-story ballroom,

The homeless, the addicts, the consciously and unconsciously impaired,

The young musicians with guitars and their brief audiences of little children,

Their dear, precious mothers looking on (so many ghosts and angels),

(A dollar in my case, a stray candy bar, a coin in my cup),

The next line I make up, the long sentence sung slowly,

Never, and always, and in all ways, enough.

Categories: New Poems & Pieces

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