Stan Petrovich (10/27/1950 / Fort Riley, KS)
Over the Top
If I climbed any higher
I would become a cloud.
Thunder & lightning embraced me
Like a lost child. I cried out loud.
The land below was divided into parcels,
Fields of brown & green
Where the moisture abounded.
I waved upward & caught a lightningbolt
That I use as a fork
While partaking of crusty basalts.
Rocks were my lunch and stanchion,
Being stronger than I, having more passion.
Look, look, the sky is parting- -
There is the bright blue where I am going.
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