Highways and Byways: The Prospector

By Maik Strosahl

Eureka! Since 1849, this word has appeared on the California seal. It comes from the Greek and means “I have found it.” For many years, the word was probably used to refer to the discovery of gold, but as many more followed the 49ers to the coast, it also came to mean they had found paradise: the land of the sun and endless beaches.
    Yet, today, even though the state is a leader in per capita income, it also has 13% of its population living in poverty and more homeless than the next three leading states combined.
    It seems that the heaven many thought they had found has lost its luster, yet there are still those who dream of finding a nugget and striking it rich, those who still keep searching for gold in them thar hills.

The Prospector

In the shadows of buildings
growing wild along Riverside,
the old man
scoops another pie tin
full of dust,
swirls it around,
eyes desperate
for a glint of hope.

He is baked
in the afternoon sun,
basted in the broth
flavored by yesterday,
the day before,
several more that he
cannot remember
since his last bath
of heavy rain.

A passerby flings
their Starbucks change,
mistaking his pan
for a beggar’s cup:
a quarter,
two dimes,
a shiny new penny.
He curses,
picking the coins out,
considers tossing them
before finding a pocket,
hiding them away.

He wipes his fingers
into his new shirt,
found last night
in the toss and turn
of a nearby dumpster,
the threadbare hyacinths of a
Hawaiian print that reminds him
of better days and paradise,

but for now,
his eyes return to scour the pan
for the treasures it may reveal:
broken glass,
gravel,
an old pop-top,
sparkling remnants
of shattered dreams.

Disappointed,
he pours the dust out,
tossing the tin into his
Fred Meyer prospecting cart.
“Guess there’s no more gold here
in California,” he mutters,
as he slowly walks down the alley
and disappears into the setting sun.

Copyright © 2021 by Maik Strosahl Michael E. Strosahl has focused on poetry for over twenty years, during which time he served a term as President of the Poetry Society of Indiana. He relocated to Jefferson City, Missouri, in 2018 and currently co-hosts a writers group there.