Where Our Tunnels Went
John Davis Jr.
We liked to glamorize
those two metal culverts
supporting the road into town
as “tunnels” replete with treasure:
buried pirates’ gold and reptiles.
We ventured into those holes
closest home almost daily,
swapping off routes and dirt
like so many battered favorite
toys used and loved by us both.
Returning from a day’s plunder,
we had to compare to brag—
bottle caps to squirrel skulls,
pebbles to marbles,
buccaneer booty for certain.
One day, we just reached the end:
we found the city waiting
with vehicles, jobs, and girlfriends
sucking us out of separate,
mutual, childhood adventures.
Yet I never drive over
abridged road portions without
wondering: what boys could be
swapping tales underneath
while my car passes above.
