With his father’s eyes like two myopic raisins
Mounted on Corinthian columns in the utility closet
Of his mind palace; he came upon the wilderness
With a pouch of hardtack and a smartphone.
His leather boots repelling a light rain
Foreshadowing an odyssey that lay ahead
Like a jewel lodged in the appendix
Of a Cyclops snorting a meridian of crystal ****...
Scored for the price of a golden fleece.
He summoned his imaginary plan
And set foot upon an uncharted expanse.
His home behind him.

With his father’s eyes whistling to a silhouette
Of a lost boy and a mop.