From the other side,

he gave himself:

a devil's name;

a little boy's number.

I saw him

standing under the canopy

he searched desperately

for me.

But I would not come.

He could have been an angel

haloes in his throat

burning where

the ash got clogged

It could have been perfect.

But all I saw

were blinding headlights

from my place

amoung the young willows.

I saw a devil,

an angel,

and a little boy.

But he couldn't see me

from the other side.