I was sitting in an outer room in Heaven
Wearing the house dress that I always wore.
And I was watching these two angels from a distance.
Say, from where you´re sitting now to the corner store.
There was a pulpit and a small chair in the office
Made of wood without comparison on earth.
The doors were all of marble, but transparent.
They were writing in a book your date of birth.
Do you remember the asilo's first communion?
all the children with their candles dressed in white.
And once imprisoned you asked me for a ribbon
To mark the pages you wrote each night.
I´m tired, Mama.
His name was Salvador Agron, but they called him The Capeman.
Back in the 1950´s when teenage toughs were called juvenile
delinquents, he was the leader of a gang in the Hell´s Kitchen
section of Manhattan called The Vampires. The Capeman murdered
two young men and when police took him away, he sneered defiantly,
"I don´t care if I burn. My mother could watch me." Out of jail,
living in quiet obscurity in the Bronx, Salvador Agron died of
a heart attack yesterday. He would have been 43 years old today.
Do you remember when we went to the Santero
And he said that you would suffer?
He was right.
I believe I´m in the power of Saint Lazarus.
Don´t tear apart the satin summer night.
The angels both were male and softly spoken.
Their hair was lightened by the sea and sun.
They carried a chain, the chain was broken.
Then they laid it at my feet and they were gone.