The old man recalled something but couldn’t place it in the chronologyof events.

He remembered voices & forgot the faces. 

The ink on the papers had dry faded
X no longer marked the spot. 

It had all shifted. 
The buried treasure was long gone. 
Dug up stolen treasures

sold on E-Bay 

melted down boxed up 

hidden in a private safe behind that fake Botticelli

hidden from sticky fingers and prying eyes

under a pissed stained mattress stashed in a South London lockup at or at the bottom of the sea

Time erased much, but small!things remained hidden in dark corners

his name was famous once; he dreamed he was in a ticker tape parade

the centre of some mystery the answer to a question on a quiz show.

Memories crept up on him like small children dressed as ghosts on Halloween.


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