ANGEL OF LIGHT

There's a street corner in Ashland where a red stone gothic-style church sits.

That's where the Episcopalians hang out and drink coffee and eat doughnuts.

The man in the white linen robe swung a pineapple shaped ball at me.

It swung back and forth like a pendulum, and white smoke was oozing out of its gaping pores.

Who needs tobacco or marijuana when I can get high on this Jesus smoke?

My lover yelled out “SHIT!” during the mass on Christmas Eve.

She forgot to play hop scotch with her hands across her chest after every prayer.

Finally, it got to her. She cursed. I was blessed.

Love sat next to me in a dark oak pew. We sat on red velvet cushions.

My arm was laying behind her shoulder, and rested like a boa constrictor along the top

spine of the pew, and lightly curled over her right shoulder. Her hair was black like a flock

of ravens, and it hung over my arm like a bridal veil waterfall.

We kneeled down for prayer, and a silver cup and saucer was placed in front of us.

Together we sipped the cold crimson stream of Calvary's tide.

Together, our mouths chewed up the body of Christ.

I felt God.

He felt like the stare from a beautiful woman.

He felt like the smile from a stranger.

He felt like a hug from momma.

He felt like the joy you get when you hear your newborn child cry for the first time.

He felt like your first kiss.

He felt like a surprise gift of money.

He felt like the rise in blood pressure when your girlfriend holds your hand tightly.

He felt like an adrenaline rush when you exceed the speed limit on the highway.

But sometimes I wonder if God feels me.

What do I feel like to God?

Do I feel like a thorn on a rose stem that punctures His finger tips?

Do I feel like rubbing alcohol poured on to a carpet burn?

Do I feel like salt dabbed on to a paper cut?

Do I feel like a pot of boiling water that falls on a nosey child?

Do I feel like nails piercing His feet and hands?

Do my prayers sound like two fighting tomcats in His ears?

Do they sound like an annoying incessant child who won't stop begging for a new toy?

Do they sound like an electric saw blade charging through a 2x4 at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning when you're trying to get some rest?

I had an encounter with God in more ways than one on that street corner. For the few short weeks I encountered Him through that lover they were the most memorable moments of my life.

Each memory is pegged to my brain like a layer of posters on a telephone pole.

God left me those memories just as my lover left me.

Just as Judas betrayed Jesus, I could never trust the woman under the black veil again.

I could have swore I felt God in her love,

but then again, even the devil comes as an angel of light.

I should have worn Ray Bans so I could see which true

form was standing in that glow.