Angel Baby

The holidays are here, and along with the hookers and hoodlums, angels are out on Mission Street tonight. Not the motorcycle club. Or the back-room money men. Or the sugar daddies on the DL. Real angels - or as real as celestial messengers get.

Yeah. Fallen angels walk these streets tonight among the hipsters, gangsters and rockabilly kids. With drawn swords in hand and eyes like lamps of fire, they strive against each other all year, their purposes forever crossed. But these nights, there is an uneasy peace. Vengeance and the End of Day are delayed this evening as strings of steel vibrate with the mathematical perfection of the heavenly spheres. Seven times ten. L. Deora

77 El Deora
Oblique Americana: a verbis ad verbera