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Seth Guy Simonich
Poems
Sep 2014
Saturday Night Fever
With the stench of both Mary and Jack on his breath
He stumbles and staggers closer to death.
As the days dwindle down and come to an end
He sits alone on the curb, beer spilled on his chest
There he will wait, until it's his time to rest.
*Work in progress
Written by
Seth Guy Simonich
Missoula
(Missoula)
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