There are mysterious items
in the landscape that I never
quite figure out.
Those dull olive green
mailboxes without a slot.
What are they for?
The mailman keeps his lunch in them.
Or an umbrella. Galoshes.
An apparatus to communicate
emergencies
to Headquarters via shortwave:
"We have a Code Red --
a little kid nosing around.
Repeat, nosing around.
Should I take him out?"
Stuck to the side of my house
like a lamprey eel
is the baffling glass bubble
with tiny arrows spinning around
and around.
Around and around,
slow and fast.
Never stopping.
Round and round she goes
and where she stops
nobody knows.
What do we win
if they do stop?
A trip to Hawaii
I betcha.
Or a pink Cadillac
for my dad to drive to
work at Aarone's Bar & Grill.
Or will it simply dispense
are the grates and
manhole covers.
They must lead to
Pellucidar.
To the abode of
the Morlocks.
To the Comstock Lode.
I peer into them for
hours
for signs of life.
"Stop fiddling with that
manhole cover! You want
to crush your fingers?"
I saw an iron manhole cover
lifted up with a crowbar.
So now I know the Open Sesame.
Where to get one . . .
Wayne Matsuura's dad must have one.
He has everything that's useful
in his garage.
I badger Wayne
until he finds a small one
hanging on the pegboard.
Now he and I will unravel
underground wonders
and terrors
that will turn people's
teeth blue.
But before we get started
there's a summer cloudburst.
The storm water sewer system
goes into backwash mode
and two-hundred pound
cast iron manhole covers
pop out of the ground like
champagne corks.
Following by geysers
of filthy water.
An apocalyptic warning
for two little boys
to put the crowbar back
go inside
and watch
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