Angel Taxi In The Last Of The Lemon Light Dream Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

weaving the lemon light through the raspberry clouds
my only angel's occupied I know
and suddenly I trip on a staircase

not even there
afraid of the wavy lines on escalators
and now I'm on the wrong floor

for key lime pies and tiramisu
and now the last bus appears
in front of the store; it's closing time
for fine perfumes,
the Cinnamon, -Stubbed-Your-Toe-On-It,
Did-You Coffee Cake Cafe

and all I see is the door snap shut and the bus
careening off into a sunset pinched like a pie
and baked into summer fluffily

now I ask my angel lost in lemon chiffon
(pie) reverie-
and loud enough to beat the band-
is it done yet?

mary angela douglas 2 november 2013