Treasure

The sun, smashed on the river, makes a million smithereens.

I lie face down on the bank, make a bowl of my hands and scoop

them up, as I would a shoal of minnows. Then, inspecting

my treasure, I find no diamonds, just a dwindling pool of water.

I shake my hands dry, and promise myself,

“one day, Michael, you will own a house beside water.”