Isle of Palms, South Carolina - September 19, 2018

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