Treasure Hunter
I was following a narrow road that led to a dry like,
the road was flanked by uneven trees, looking like rejected
kids for the school´s football team, short, thin too tall, and
the fat boy with round glasses. They shared a secret though,
glad not being selected as they hated organized sport.
At the dry lake I walked to its deepest point and pretended
I was diving looking for treasures. I found an empty tin of
sardines; I hate sardines we had only sardines in my childhood
even sardine burgers, how pathetic is that?
The trees flanking the road where losers, that is only in the eyes
of those who thought success was looking like everyone else.
a slight breeze and a frazzle of laughter;
seeing a dry rubber eraser, one that had been looked up in
an office drawer for five years, driving a scooter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem