My dreams are haunted by the strange tropical bird with just that one tinny beep, and the long beak that skims the ground like a grazing ostrich hunting metal. At the furious height of the beeping song, the ostrich digs into the dirt, and pulls out the hole where the head would soon be buried.
Every stash we found was the final scene of a tragedy. Treasure buried by a person that never returned to dig it up.
No comments:
Post a Comment