Angel Taxi In The Last Of The Lemon Light Dream

weaving the lemon light through the raspberry clouds

my only angel's occupied I know

and suddenly I trip on a staircase

not even there

afraid of the wavy lines on escalators

and now I'm on the wrong floor

for key lime pies and tiramisu

and now the last bus appears

in front of the store; it's closing time

for fine perfumes,

the Cinnamon, -Stubbed-Your-Toe-On-It,

Did-You Coffee Cake Cafe

and all I see is the door snap shut and the bus

careening off into a sunset pinched like a pie

and baked into summer fluffily

now I ask my angel lost in lemon chiffon

(pie) reverie-

and loud enough to beat the band-

is it done yet?

mary angela douglas 2 november 2013