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.