Maceo, not realizing he was echoing Angel Paul’s thoughts, thinking, You gotta wake up, brother. There’s dreams and then there’s reality and sometimes sittin’ waitin’ for the first to be the second will wear your ass right out, or get you killed.
In a smoke filled room an hour later, tossing back coffee, rain striking at the window, a thousand tapping fingers, Angel Paul watching from the corner, proving angels cry too, the loss of Maceo’s dream not on him yet, at least not the all of it. In time, in time.
Maceo’s forehead against the cool glass now, tapping, love found, love lost, there had to be a point in it, somewhere anyway. A flicker of yellow lifts his eyes, a goldfinch finds the feeder, brilliant yellow, a beam of hope. A smile hints on Maceo’s face. Angel Paul thinking, In time, in time.
to be cont’d