Angels on Clark Street

Trying to retrace the steps we took that Indian summer day we walked on Clark Street
From Belmont to the Historical Society where the eccentric old woman played piano
The agitated waiter rushed us through our meal but the view of the lake was impeccable
You were wearing light summer shoes that day – I was wearing heavy field boots
You waded out on the big rocks into the polluted river while I snapped pictures of statues

Now it is December and I am walking past Chef John’s Golden Bowl
I can almost see us sitting inside the place drinking coffee – I had just quit smoking then
Every angel I see on Clark Street tonight is prettier than the one that came before
The prettiest of them all – I imagine – is the one who pulled me back onto the curb
The angel on Clark Street who literally saved my life on such a beautiful December night
She tucked her groceries under her arm and walked away leaving me scratching me head
My angel looked back at me once and smiled – I was too embarrassed to smile back
She eventually blended in with the rest of the angels in the moist evening air
I have loved every angel I have ever seen on Clark Street in December

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