He tips another up to the sagging, cherubic lip
and drinks a beer from a wide-hipped bottle
singing praises within
blue notes and bluer words, still.
In the pale, cool hours of a smoky bar
he communes with strangers
the royal blue robe stains him
He sings hallelujah.
coffee, creamer and sugar
He saves two doughnuts
One for him and
one for his mother. — JBea Young