All Homeward Bound... Poem by RIC BASTASA

there is a poem that looks like a map
the syllables are trails
and there is a word that sounds so
striking
and you equate it with the 'x'
where the treasure
is supposedly found

and you keep it in your mind
always figuring
'x'

'x'

'x'

what is really 'x'?

as a treasure you mistake it for
the usual gold,
the usual finds that pirates steal from ships
and keep in secret places
sometimes under the sea
sometimes in the desert but the marking
of the cactus is gone

the poem has a lot of them
but do not be disappointed
for i am no pirate
i steal none from innocent ships
no galleons
nothing about search and visit stuff

in fact, it is not a map at all

it is a park where children play
and where we figure out what next to do
we wait for a while and then we go
yes, to home.