sun flares across the windshield
smoke and dust kick up
pirate’s luck and questions like
where x is on the map or
where x should be and
how does x make you feel
we drew the treasure map
a spot on wood near waves
we didn’t see or even hear
or smell really, blocked by sand
dollar walls probably
so much went into the cartography
the hauling of goods and gear
and when we set up camp
I was too tired to hunt treasure
And yet somehow we found it
or pieces of it, anyway, washing up
in the form of squirrel, a free bird, a funny note
or a ring on the hook
we woke sweat-soaked
broke the fever
a lonely split in the sand
where treasure once was
the waves crashing somewhere