The Feather

The Feather

Driving through Ohio 
I think it was, my wife 
And I passed an angel 
On the side of the road.
Bad luck leaving an angel 
Hanging, my wife said, 
Which, fair enough.
We had a heck of a time 
Fitting her in, what with 
Those big wings of hers.
Sort of pinkish-bluish.
It gave me a weird feeling
Touching them, like when
I touched my father’s face
Where he lay in the coffin.
My mother told me to,
Said it would be the last
Time, that I’d be sorry.
Every time I looked up
In the rearview they were 
All I saw. I’d be lying if
I said I didn’t think about
How she’d look mounted
Over the mantle. My wife
Asked the angel where
It was she wanted to go,
But she didn’t seem to 
Have a destination in mind, 
So we just drove around,
Whispering what to do.
Out of ideas, we stopped
At the Sonic drive-in,
Bought her a vanilla malted.
Man she sucked that thing 
Right up. Then, not ten 
Minutes down the road,
My wife said, I think 
She wants out. Sure enough, 
I’d hardly stopped before 
She was spilling out the door.
What do you even do
After that? I'll tell you
What we did - liquor store,
Case of Coors and a bottle 
Of Absolut, Netflix, oblivion. 
I didn't bother. Who would of 
Believed me? Would you of? 
Anyway, the other day,
I’m cleaning my car when 
I find this under the seat.
Now what in the world
Do you make of that? 
Go on and hold it.
The fuck is right.