the flight of the angels

ahh yes...i remember the first time i was in switzerland...it is one of those lines that seems utterly ridiculous...like i should be sipping brandy, sporting a mustache, and wearing a pith helmet...but this story has no trace of the privliged...i was sitting on a park bench in bern feeling utterly shit-i-fied...drained of everything human or lifelike...my sideburns sagged as the camel cigarettes wore down to my yellowed fingers...i looked to the pack as i smoked...'american blend' it said...evidently the swiss had something against the turks...because as every good camel smoker knows here in the great land of opportunity all packs read proudly 'turkish and american blend'...but on this night i hardly noticed...i was beaten...i was ruined...not in any real sense but in a sense none the less...i sat quietly speaking to the sky...'it would be nice to have some company'...and then like a dream she came...sitting quietly on the park bench asking me for a light in german...or was it french...either way i did not understand and made a few gestures like an idiot relating the point...it was only after she had lit her cigarette that i knew what she wanted...i waited on the other end of the bench like a moron until she finished her cigarette...then i apologized to her in a bumbling manner, explaining in english that i did not understand her...she slid near pulling another cigarette from her pocket, offering up the end for me to light...this was it...i dont know who you are, but i, though not a bad looking individual, do not have women approach me on park benches unless they are whores looking for money...but here it was...all in front of me, on a strange night in bern...she, carved out of the finest scapes of poland...put here in switzerland tonite to talk to me...to comfort me from the darkness closing fast...i loved her that night, my sweet eliza...and never have forgotten...angels do exist, if only for an instant...but hey, we all exist, if only for an instant...