Treasure Island

Treasure Island There were times reading Treasure Island Or even thinking about the book that I could smell the sea and hear the hawsers Strain and make the old Hispaniola creek and Groan in a fair wind and following sea. I could understand Squire’s ridiculous buffoonery Or see full well the invisible hand of Long Johns’ Self-serving greed for what it was. But if RLS spent three hours surfing the web In my upstairs room at the inn today he’d stand up And take his glass of claret and with a little bow, Duck under the low door and head back down The narrow stairs. “You’re leaving? We haven’t even seen Wikipedia.” He turns and looks back up at me. “Thank you, Master Hawkins for showing Me this (he swishes the wine in his glass) . . . modernity But it makes me feel like Ben Gunn.” He sees my Disappointment and adds, “It’s just that, Well, damn it, boy wherever I go, here I am.” Forrest Greenwood 2/23/10 .