Treasure
seems almost
drawn to you,
powerless to resist
even the smallest effort
on your part
to seek
and to find it;
gold clings to your pick
at the first swing
and prize fish
fight for your hook
when you cast a line.
How tragic, then,
that though treasures spring
from all you touch, in vain
you feast on gold
and wear your catch
like jewelry,
wondering why you’re starving
and smell like the tide;
you sit among
a thousand pearled oysters,
with no idea
how to get inside.
