Street Angel

The mystery of mania is how it hoists your mind up so far in the air that you have no choice but to believe you’re becoming something greater than yourself. That’s how I became a street angel that night.

“I’m leaving.” I said.

He doesn’t look at me. The bed creaks as I get up and slip on my shoes. It’s two o’ clock in the morning and we’re still awake. Another day started in an argument. We’ve been working on us for six years and it still doesn’t seem like we’ve got it right.

“Bye.” he replies.

He doesn’t know that he’s opened the door for me. It’s two o’ clock in the morning and I’m awake. More importantly I’m abuzz. I’m yearning for it. Life. It’s not just a feeling, it’s a seduction. It knows all my pressure points. It coaxes me out of bed away from my boyfriend. It’s waiting for me outside. He’s waiting to take me for a ride.

I walk out the front door. I hear him curse to himself. I know why he’s so worked up. He’s had a long day at work. He’s a masochist, that boyfriend of mine. Working twelve hour days at a law firm. He makes great money. Too bad he had to sell his soul in the process.

I don’t have that burden. Not right now. The 2 am feeling has just seized my own soul. The night is awake just for me. The cold wind slumbered to a sweet whisper just for me. Just enough to curl a tendril of black hair against my forehead. The street lights are doing wonders for my complexion. My skin is incandescent. Right now is the time to be alive. At no other time would anyone be able to describe their skin in this light.

I cross the street without looking left or right. It’s Tuesday morning and the city is still asleep. I’m a street angel. So I float instead of walk because right now I have wings. The night can vouch for me on this. The air hoists me into its arms and together we float ahead. This is the feeling that no one gets to share with me, just the wind and the air.

There’s a man at the corner of the road. He’s sad before I see his face. He’s hunched over in his fleece jacket with holes and rips. His head is grease and dirt with a bit of brown hair peeking through. He could be asleep. Yet, I want to speak to him. So I float down towards him. He looks up at me and I smile down at him.

“Good morning.” I greet him.

“Umm..Hello miss.”

I sit down next to him. The two am feeling is still flickering away. Maybe this guy could use some of my warmth.

“Do you like honesty sir?” I asked.

“Excuse me?” he responds.

“I think you can handle honesty. At first glance, some people might call you a bum.”

“I am a bum.” he said.

He may be right. Just a whiff of his breath makes me think he’s got beer for blood. It didn’t bother me though. He needed a friend. Everyone needs someone to help them smile once in a while.

“You’re not a bum. You’re a man. More importantly, you’re a person with a heart.”

He laughs. It’s just a drunken echo. He doesn’t even move.

“You one of them Jesus Loves You people?” he asks.

I laugh. It’s a reverberation that makes me shiver.

“No.” I said. “I’m a street angel.”

He looks at me with some semblance of life in his eyes. I’ve got his attention now.

“So you’re a hooker?” he asked.

I laugh again. It’s a joyous freedom for my lungs to expel air this way.

“No. I’m just alive right now. Living in the moment.” I nod at him.

“You’re sitting in the middle of the street talking to a bum and you think that’s living?” He chuckles.

“I thought I was a crazy coot. You’re giving me a run for my money, sweetheart.”

I look around. The wind has whisked away for now. It’s just me and this man in a newly chilled atmosphere.

“I’ve been sitting with you for almost ten minutes now and I’ve gotten you to laugh and smile more than once.”

“Why?” he asks. “What’s in it for you?”

“It’s the kind of stuff that keeps me alive.” I tell him.

He closes his eyes. I’ve lost him. His face is different though. A little bit lighter. A little bit freer.

The air helps me to my feet again and once again I am a two in the morning goddess. I drift along the empty sidewalks of sleeping buildings. I’m not looking for a destination. Street angels don’t need to be anywhere. They just need to keep moving. To leave their presence with the people they happen to meet. The night needs them. This night needed me.

There’s another man that I see across the street. He’s walking in the opposite direction. He’s young, like me and he looks like my boyfriend, just a little bit older. He stares at me in the most delicious way. I float over to him to share a bit of life.

“Hey.” I say with a smile.

He smiles at me. He’s a heavy lidded looker. I know what’s on his mind.

“Hey there yourself, beautiful.” he replies.

“What’s your story for this electric night?” I ask.

“I got kicked out by my wife.” He gestures to an apartment complex behind us.
I touch his shoulder. My hand is electric too. He has to be a part of this energy. A street angel never leaves behind a person in need of a little life.

“That’s a tough break.” I say. “You want to talk?”

His eyes start a journey. They travel down my neck, linger on my breasts and rest on my crotch. I stand still and wait for his answer.

“Anything but talking” he says. His words are almost a plea and his eyes confirm his weakness.

Gravity becomes real again though my feet remain a few inches above ground. I have a lover at home who wants my body and it is his to explore. But this man reminds me so much of my lover, it seems wrong to deny him such a simple pleasure. A street angel never leaves a person in need.

“You wanna go somewhere?” I ask him.

His eyes flicker on and a smile brightens his face.

“Sure.” he says. His voice is grateful. It erases the gravity that wants to form guilt in the center of my chest.

He takes my hand and we float together. In silence we drift to a park with beautiful oak trees and a single bench in the middle. We sit together and the street angel is in my head. I feel light headed with expectation.

“No talking.” he puts a finger to my lips.

He leans over and kisses me. His jaw is angular like my boyfriend’s. He’s got a strong bone structure. His lips are rough and soft at the same time. So much like my boyfriend’s. So I kiss him back. We’re just sensations. Touching and heat. I think he’s becoming an angel too. It feels right. So I reciprocate more by adding my tongue to his. There doesn’t need to be any explanations. Sometimes we just need someone to help us feel real.

We start a liquid dance. He nuzzles my neck and transfers his kisses to my collar bone. His tongue makes little circles and he marks it with a nibble. Clothes are drifting off layer by layer and it’s clear our bodies are about to become better acquainted. Gravity is pulsing in the center of my chest.

He is my electricity right now. His limbs are strong and remove my clothes with vigor. He needs this. I need electricity. It’s what keeps street angels alive. I mirror his movements to speed the shedding process. “Renewal.” I think to myself. “There’s nothing wrong with rejuvenating yourself.”

Our clothes have fallen into the dirt. We’re raising the temperatures of life. We’re man and woman in raw action. We’re creating synergy to send out to the night in waves. He honors his carnal ancestors with a primal growl. I honor the angel in me with feathery gasps of breath. Such a joyous way to expel air.

It’s over when it starts. The angel in me wouldn’t have it any other way. I have my boyfriend in bed, at home that waits for me. My street angel lover smiles at me. Satisfaction and gratitude alternate in his eyes as he catches his breath.

“Do you want me to call a taxi for you?” he asks.

I shake my head. A street angel never needs more than she can give.

“It’s okay.” I tell him. “I will be okay here.”

He drifts away in his own electricity. I think he took some of mine with him.

Gravity is beating full force in my chest now and I feel guilt.

I put on my clothes and reach into the back of my jeans. I pull out my cell phone. I call the home where my lover sleeps.

“Hello? Bree? Is that you?” he asks. His voice is electric too. Frantic with electricity.

“Hey babe.” I coo. I want this gravity to filter out of my heart.

“Dammit Bree, you need to start taking your medication. This bipolar thing is not a joke. You’re going to hurt yourself!” He sounds so angry. He really needs to cut back his hours at work.

“Can you pick me up babe? I’m at the park.” I ask.

“I’ll be right there. Do not move Bree.” He hangs up the phone.

I’m still floating but I’m skimming the ground now. I try to hold on to the street angel in me. She’s still awake but she’s humbled by infidelity. I close my eyes to put her to rest for now.