Lost

I crossed the parking lot
The man in the convenience store
beyond the gas pumps
trying to cash already cashed lottery tickets
perplexed
fluorescent bulbs buzzed
piercing in the eyebrow of the cashier
trying to look less than her age

He was desperate,
intent on a few bits of chance
to change his life
smelling of ripple or worse
clothes askew and split
a seam in his pants trying to break
Matted, gray hair and a slouch in his step
struggling in the July damp
I could tell, even from behind, he was
lost, in the grip of the full buck moon


July 11, 2006 21:47


All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 20,820+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.