Surreptitious Cargo Cult

These objects
like supplies brought to island aboriginals
arrive unexpectedly from offshore
as unordered surprises
invoking wonderment

A comb
a working pen
things of plastic, metal, wood
small and insignificant little discoveries
found at my feet as I walk

When I was a child
coins were everywhere
with my lowness to the earth
and my need for candy
coin after coin after coin

Were the losers deaf
or just so in a hurry
to not hear the clack of metal money
on weathering cement?

Then in childhood
and now as adult
I find that treasures appear
from some unknown source
always preceding me by a step

These leavings
dropped behind
lost things precious and unexpected
little unintended secrets
pleasing me

Yesterday
a fingernail clipper
became my property
thru this succession of loss...
today in a chain reaction
my fingernail crescent clippings
scattered unintentionally
to become my leavings
enriching in some way
that which comes following me

What will notice my leavings?
ants and bugs?
some protein hungry creatures
walking the strand which separates
the before from the after

My traces and leavings
whether organic or synthetic
whether useful or not
may be mysterious remnants
that following creatures wonder about

I sit upon the shores
of Time's preceding ocean
watching and waiting
for the sails to appear
above the advancing horizon
to drop off their cargo
as I pick up these remnants
from Time's beach

The actions of others
providing little losses
leaving behind things
For me to find on my way
Bending over to pick them up
I wonder who or what preceded me

Living others I follow...
and then creatures to follow me

G.J.G. 11/01-3/02

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