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