When I got to the pasture gate, I was surprised to see my angel sitting on top,

her legs crossed, wings tucked away,  a big white frizzy wig, denim hotpants,

bloused unbuttoned halfway down, lots of rouge, her Garbo voice,

smoking a cigarette, oh don’t look so surprised, she said,

it’s one of those electric ones, just smoke, really, no tar or nicotine,

smoking is not allowed in the office, or anywhere on the earth, but

give me a break, longer hours, big push on productivity,

we’ve been outsourced to  big corporation, God is moving online,

all the new angels are into IT, and code,

things are different, but hey, she said, I am still your angel,

and this is my message,

we are only here for a minute, use every second,

the chorus in the heart needs to sing, and she blew me a wet kiss

that made a whistling noise as it came through the air and landed

with a smack on my nose, and I saw her wings unfurl and she sailed

off into the sky, and yelled, hey, love ya babe, you big sweet thing,

the chorus in the heart needs to sing.