By Michael Lee Johnson

The angels of wings are always in flight
be the devil or archangel Michael.
I’m a hawk, I’m a night owl night
barroom flights, fighter,
seeing eyes that eye me contact,
not blind, a rhythm of sensuality.
I take my shower, deep breath,
scrub good off my skin, breathe
in the single night, air alone.
These shadows highway unknown
Jesus crosses my night path
Jesus crosses my sky early morn
with a paintbrush, a rainbow
and a promise when
I wake a new dream begins.
Single life is a barroom bitch.