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.