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May 17 Claims OfficeGold Rush, Diamond Fever
Most of the huge, easy nuggets (having been picked up)
were sold one Saturday night
long ago
for a song
a few drinks of the house whiskey
or a piece of long-forgotten ass
in a lawless, frontier mining town.
The lucky ones who struck it rich are dead;
dead or growing old,
forgetful.
Those who are left
sift tons of rock and sand
for the occasional flake
for what is left over that is
precious.
You are surrounded by rock and dross, for instance,
not a golden vein of purity;
and I,
both unlucky and unskilled as a collector of precious things,
will never declare you an easy catch.
The difference is:
I chose to dig deep and long for you
without a guarantee
through piles of worthlessness
for a few small pieces
of
treasure.
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