EVER AND WILL

Ever looked good out on Main Street, his feet a foot above a fiery sidewalk, his wings wide, his eyes glazed.  He’s higher and wiser than most, his lowest moments behind him now, dim memories, all the earth unfolding upward, lifting him upward as well, a raging angel.

Will had held a packet of powder for hours, waiting for Ever to show, waiting in a slow rain with a hacking cough, drained.  This is what he did.  Hidden in his jacket pocket, deep in the darkness there, the tiny white bundle waited as Will had waited for Ever.

Now it was an hour or more further into the rain.  Ever’s out on Main in a red hat and a fine high haze and Will’s on another corner, further downtown, waiting forever for another sucker, with a pocketful of bait.