delivery in the red wagon we carried the meteor to our closet. the wagon begged us to report our finding to the police but we told our old implement he was a snitch. sewed the old door shut. made breakfast eggs & talked about weather until weather stopped. i wanted to make a crown from the rock but the neighborhood boys wanted to make bullets or slingshot-fodder. isn't that always the way? boys think of domination only in terms of violence. on the second day the meteor started to spit out old heels scuffed & unless. someof the boys put them on & told me not to tell anyone. in the wagon, i pulled them down to the hole in the earth where we found it. corn dispersed by impact. i felt jealous. i have anyways wanted to fall with that kind of force. leave a mark in the dirt. i used to jump from the roof but a parachute always opened out my skull. who put it there? self preservation is a game of thinking ahead of your most combustive self. i buy matches in bulk. confess to the meteor that i'm not really sure what the point is. what a kid is supposed to do when they discover something like this. i hoped for an invasion. extraterrstrials knocking on my door but instead the meteor just weeps & begs to be let go. i confess "i don't know how to let you go." the wagon is furious all the while. paces the driveway with squeaky wheels. i ask for a truce & lay down inside. "take me anywhere else," i say so the wagon does. carries me up & down country roads until we reach the edge of the map where no one has made up anything worthwhile. i ask, "here?" the wagon says, "here." looking up at the incomplete sky i hope some kid on another planet finds an earth fragment & has the same dilema. the worst feeling is that you might be the only person to feel so strongly about an incident. i don't cry even though i kind of want to. finally, years later, i follow the faint wagon wheel trails back home. metero gone from the closet. neighbor boys throwing shards back up to the dark sky.