His Angel

The women were all so 
lovely
in their t-shirts and skirts;
the children chased pigeons
around the town square
with no shoes
and Johnny sat on the 
corner and sang his blues
a jumbled mess of cigarettes and booze;
nothing was in question;
all the people thought they
were going to Heaven,
and Johnny sat on the 
corner and sang his blues
a jumbled mess of cigarettes and booze.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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