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- A Chicago gargoyle with a secret heart of gold takes a chance on being a guardian (angel) and discovers how much more he can become.
- Take Only What Resonates
- Leave the Rest Behind
Moe knew Chicago from the underside,
The backroom deal, the debt.
A squat old gargoyle with a good cigar
And a face you don’t forget.
Some standing in a crooked crowd,
Some muscle of his own,
With wings tucked tight and fists prepared
For every street he’d known.
He loved his poker, loved his crew,
Loved whiskey burning real.
He’d borrow some drunk’s unsteady hands
To show them how to wield
A pool cue like they’d never dreamed—
Watch every pocket fill.
The human couldn’t make those shots;
That shine was Moe’s own skill.
But somewhere underneath that hide,
A thought he seldom told:
“Could there be something more than this?”
A secret heart of gold.
Passengers sleeping through the miles,
Their lives beneath my hands.
My car, my turn to be the grown-up,
Far from roads I understand.
Thirteen hours through the darkness,
Driving glasses on my face,
Leaning on Nicotine and caffeine,
Far beyond my usual pace.
An hour north of Chicago,
Something caught my inward eye:
A poker game upon my rooftop,
Cards beneath the rushing sky.
Four or five, perhaps another,
Wings and whiskey, easy grins.
Moe had seen my shining light
And brought his whole crew in.
“You got this, Kitty. No problem.
Keep her steady. I gotcha.”
Cigar between his crooked teeth,
Cards held easy in his claws.
I didn’t know to ask for help;
He came along that road.
Moe steppin’ out into the guardian gig.
Tryin his hand’ at goodness, not gonna fold.
Three a.m., Chicago tangled,
Headlights pouring into lanes.
One went out ahead to buffer,
Others watched around my frame.
Somehow I had room around me
Where there shouldn’t be a space.
“Keep up, Kitty,” through the thunder—
I could see his laughing face.
Then a merge with nowhere left to go,
My foot stood on the brake.
Horns went up on every side;
I braced against the shake.
Then there I was in the right-hand lane,
Still rolling, still all right.
I can’t tell you how we got there.
Moe was on his game that night.
“You got this, Kitty. No problem.
Keep her steady. I gotcha.”
Three slept on while I gripped the wheel,
While his crew kept watch above.
By five the road lay open,
I could loosen up my hold.
And someone dealt another hand
In the early morning gold.
They rode with me to Erie,
Where I stayed beside the shore.
What Moe did with his holiday,
I couldn’t tell you more.
But when I packed to travel home,
That good cigar was lit.
The rooftop game was underway;
Moe hadn’t finished yet.
Chicago in the daylight,
Tolls and traffic, inch by inch.
I thought he’d leave among those streets,
Go find his usual pitch.
But his city slipped behind us;
Still his cards were on my roof.
He stayed clear through to country roads
And followed me right through.
“I think I’ll rest awhile here.”
So I introduced him to Junie.
Tiny dragons, trees, and creatures—
There was room among us, truly.
He could settle on the land awhile,
Let the afternoons unfold.
And I watched that guarded spark in him
Grow warm enough to hold.
Moe grew tall through country mornings,
Wore good jeans and proper boots,
Found himself a handsome cowboy hat
And a calm that suited too.
Proudest of his acquisitions:
A sawed-off shotgun of his own.
Still Moe, still pleased to be formidable,
With a power quietly grown.
You got this, Moe. No problem.
There’s a place here when you roam.
You brought your crew to guard my way;
I’m glad you followed home.
You wondered what you might become,
How far your wings could go.
I got to meet that hidden warmth,
That secret heart of gold.
Three weeks later, by the house,
A train came rolling through.
Moe caught his ride to Chicago;
He had things out there to do.
I hope his cards are falling kindly.
I hope his whiskey’s good.
I know he loves me, wherever he is.
I’m so glad there’s a Moe.
And if that old cigar comes round,
There’s room to deal again.
I’d love to see what Moe’s become—
And hear where he has been.