Stan Petrovich

Rookie - 208 Points (10/27/1950 / Fort Riley, KS)

Lost - Poem by Stan Petrovich

Again, here am I
In this torrid clime.
In my pocket
Half a stick of Juicy Fruit,
Sweet though dried-up.
A gust of sand
Spins up the railroad track:
It is the end, again.

I find a cigarette
But have no match.
Looking about
Everything shimmers.
The only thing wrong with death
Is that is holds no desire.

Comments about Lost by Stan Petrovich

  • (8/25/2012 2:50:00 AM)

    Brilliantly written. Liked this a lot. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, August 22, 2012

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