The Angels are Singing

I knew a man once who called me Angel but only while I was sleeping on the couch that had lost its color before I had lost my virginity more than a decade ago.

I would pretend to be asleep to listen to his nonsense.

"Angel", I'd hear him tell our coworkers, "worked hard today, let her sleep. She looks so innocent don't she, when she's asleep? Soon as she wakes up though. Lord that mouth. But she's cute ain't she, like a baby tiger. Never know it's gonna claw you or purr."

Our coworkers would laugh and nod, "Uh-uh, Uh-huh".

"She's strong", his voice full of approval, "Lord knows, this world you need to be strong."

The coworkers would all nod, "Uh-huh, Uh-huh".

He had seizures. They would hit him and his body would drop to the ground and his eyes would roll in his head like a cheap carnival doll. They got progressively worse, lasting longer, happening more frequently - his own personal earthquakes that were gradually shaking his brain into smaller and smaller pieces. There was nothing the doctors could do.

I asked him what it was like to have a seizure, he told me that the heavenly choir was pouring over him like the flood, all he could do was try to swim cause all there was, was the singing of angels surrounding him as far as he could see, and all he could do was try not to slide under it because it held him like water, and tossed him around like a thought and he knew he could drown in it and there was nothing he could do but try to swim.

"Every time I get thrown farther. Sometime, it's gonna happen. I won't come back." I could hear the fear in his voice and all I could think was, what do you say when someone knows they're gonna die?

I asked him once for fun, what color is heaven? He threw his head back, his eyebrows rose, his face squeezed shut like a slammed door, and he nodded his head as if he was agreeing with some voice. "Heaven is the color of God's love".

I couldn't laugh at the thoughts of a dying man.

I figured if angels existed he would know.