You called me golden Like, perhaps, I could be a California river. But I, with my hooded eyes, never thought I was soaked in sunlight or shimmering in wealth Until I found you sifting through me Marveling at a beauty I cannot see: Telling how the sun makes me sparkle, Bragging about the curve of my body through the hills. The more you boasted, the more came to see And now I know I am that swollen western stream, A run of water muddied by your boots, Scattered with pebbles of treasure Winding south with the current down to the sea. I am that western vein because I know I give more than I take, and I know I could never stick around for long. You're like the others Who held me in a pan and Walked away with all I could give them.