The Quest for the Dirtiest Thing...

In ancient times

    explorers set sail

on a quest for the dirtiest thing.

Not so much a place

   or a thing to speak

but an idea or ideal perhaps.

The lost chord of the soul

    the fuzzychannel on the tube

or maybe the very meaning of life itself!

The reach beyond the grasp

     from the inner worksings of the mind

to the outer limits of normal patience.

Lost civilizations contemplated

     sinking ships abandoned it

shaking fists demanded and fought.

Where is the dirtiest thing?

    does it reside in backalleys

nasty smelling sidewalks of decay.

Ponce de Leon might have found it

    mucking in the Florida Everglades

knee deep in the big muddy.

It might appear in negative thoughtstreams

    thrown wildly into slipstream reverse

roadsigned turnoff on the info highway.

Maybe it resides in mirroreflections

    of past indiscretions blushes

with the lawless and the tasteless.

Channelsurfing through the wind surf

     clouds up reason confusion

with chance encounters of happenstance.

So whatis this whois that gropes

    in darkness for those secret places

Hollywood Starmaps can't seem to locate.

Peoplewatchers standing in awe

    at the smoke plumes of dreams

escaping from their life chimney.

Tourist trap photographers

    eyedocuments in evidence

to be passed around at drunken parties.

Back in the backrooms

    the smoke rings around

forming dark stains on broken promises.

Wafts into bad grammerulings

    spent budgets of hope

threepoint landings of the fingertips.

Actuarial projectioncharts pointing

    accusations of understatment

that can be easily wiped off with modern apparatus.

Or maybe just maybe

    there is no dirtiest thing

no there is there must be.