Seduction, Imagination, And The Driving Of Stakes Poem by Don McWilliams

Having seen gold in the churches of Spain,
the conquistadors,
inconsolable for want of it,
pursued a gleam visible
across miles of cruel desert,
driving stakes into the earth
that they might make their way home.
Alas, they found only pyrite.

I see a pretty blonde
across a crowded room
or in a lunchtime rush
on the street
and, against reason,
allow my imagination to conjure you,
or more specifically you
as a part of us.
Alas, the asphalt and concrete
of my city
do not lend themselves
to the driving of stakes.