Caught Between Two Opposing Angels Poem by Mark Heathcote

One glorious summer's evening,
Out drinking
In an Irish Bar in a busy city center
I bought a round of drinks at last-orders.
As the last orders bell began to sound.

I thought it odd, people are leaving
In their droves; then the doorman
Said down your pint 'Mr and go.'
Or else I'll take it now, bro.

I protested and made him linger and wait
I didn't anticipate his burgeoning anger
Towards me or his unapologetic hate
Outside, I complained face to face.

He got aggressive filled with rage
He wanted to kill me - seriously.
I then called him a little-Adolf-Hitler
You should have seen how quickly he became enraged.

'It wasn't the name Adolf Hitler
So much as the word little
That caused him deep offense.'
He raised his fists, I got the gist.

And wasn't about to back down.
But then an angels arm came across my waist
And these gentle words 'come with me'
He isn't worth it - and so I calmly left unharmed.