On the road to El Dorado

I saw myself crumbling

like the shards of slate-stone

and each making tread

more treacherous

Lemony fields revealed

to be much closer to

the rest of the plants

yet none with transmogrifying

effects

I sat in the shade of my own ego

just long enough to regain

my strength to justify

the reason for this road trip

on two feet

and as I approached the canyon

opened itself to me

like some coiled layer

of feminine sensibility

ready to assume a new

position

the palpable moisture

from the canyon floor

and the openness of the

flow invited me deeper

into the walk or maybe it was by then

a dance

thrusting the hips of rock upwards

till the meeting of stone and water

carved shapes in the backs of beasts

never wanting to relent

but

the water

always wins

and El Dorado gave way

to a lucid image

of myself I simply could not stand

so I watched the dream

end with the same emotion

I watched it

begin