Figments of Your Mind

      (with apologies to Alan & Marilyn Bergman and Michel Legrand)

[Herewith some help with the melody, if you’re not sure….]

Cursed like a searcher on an island, like a tunnel in a shaft
Ever digging or detecting with the wisdom of the daft
Like an incised Templar cross, or a shovelful of dirt
Like the never-laundered aura of a certain someone’s shirt
Like the glyphs that might have been on some ninety feet of stone
And the Fellowship is puzzling over ancient shards of bone
Like the treasures that you find in the figments of your mind.

Like a drill core that they open in hopes of something good
Instead the watching world sighs, “It’s only more damned wood!”
Like the best top-pocket find or the fragment of a map
When will it be something more than, “Just another pile of crap!”
Like the glyphs that might have been on some ninety feet of stone
And the Fellowship is puzzling over ancient shards of bone
Like the treasures that you find in the figments of your mind.

Money leaving Marty’s pocket at such a frightening pace
Was it really all so worth it for the look on bro Rick’s face?
Cousins walk along the Cove, seeming unfazed by the drain
Was all that coffer caulking just their way to fend off pain?
Trips to France and Nova Scotia and the Mug & Anchor Pub
Half-remembered names and faces… Who washed gravel in a tub?
When we knew that it was over we were suddenly aware
That all along we liked it (admit it if you dare)

Like a searcher on Oak Island, like a tunnel in a shaft
Ever digging or detecting with the wisdom of the daft
As the episodes unwind, like the clues that you can’t find
In the figments of your mind.

January 30, 2019