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.