Atlantis

There he goes, the last one,
of a kind almost
extinguished.

The welded rubber trim of his
size eleven wellingtons
says it all.

Sliding as only rubber does
not from this world
again.

And now I know the way
to go if only
I could.

I stood there once before
at another such way
out.

There is no guide in this,
the land of minds and
hope.

His latex clad ankles would
call Carl Jung an
animal.

Atlantean! Wait for me you
are gone too soon and
too deep.