Romance.

I wrote this just about 6 months before I met my husband.


X Marks the Spot.
I don't feel empty anymore.

I feel rather like this body
is a treasure chest.

And, you know what that makes me.

The buried thing, though.

That's got me down.

Because, I'm not so sure my map was correct.

Or,

that it still exists.

I imagine it does.

Somewhere.

Waiting for the right explorer.

Not conquistador like Cortes,

deceiving and pillaging.

His men plunder-drowning one on top of the other,
As they strived to escape,

weighed down by stolen wealth.
I'm talking about a lone cowboy.
(or cowgirl.)
A bounty hunter.
Grit and spit.
On what might be a wild goose chase.
A swashbuckling anti-hero,
Who can't help but do right,
And finally finds his (or her) reward.
Then…
FUCK the
WORLD!
We'll go on adventures.