This is true. Have you heard them? I want to pry open one of the sewer caps and go exploring, see what mysteries lie underground. See what hidden things lie in these caverns. See what treasures have been stowed away.
In my head I invent an entire network of spiraling caves, connecting campus like a knot of roots shoring up a tall redwood. I think, if I can follow the sound of the crackling water down into just one of these caves I will be a made man. I could spend an entire morning lolloping through the veins of this place, pausing to listen up through the sewer caps, hearing what my peers' conversations sound like mixed with dirt and underground air and water on stone.
What about smoke coming from people's eyes? When I was young I told Mom I could tell she loved me because, when she looked at me, pink smoke streamed from her eyes. If I could have a superpower I would be able to see this smoke. Pink for love, dark blue for sad, green for calm, red for lust. The more intense a color, the more intense the emotion. If there's grey smoke the person is feeling nothing at all. This means I would always know what people were feeling and I could know what they felt about me and it would be my little secret. And I could understand people. And I wouldn't work my brain so hard trying to figure out, What the hell do they like me or not?
This is from a poem I like by Anne Sexton called "The Fury of Overshoes":
Under your bed
sat the wolf
and he made a shadow
when cars passed by
at night.
I love that . . . under your bed / sat the wolf. The most important thing comes last, builds anticipation. I could learn from that.
What about a tower seven miles tall shooting off earth like a giant vine? There is a small old man living in an open room at the top and everyone knows if you can make it there you will learn the secret to Life, the Universe and Everything.
There was a young, brave, and headstrong girl who was determined to get to the top and learn the secrets to Everything. For months she climbed, through storms and high wind, through hunger and thirst. Sometimes pelicans would bring her water in their huge mouth pouches. Sometimes buzzards would bring her raw, festering meat—because that is what they liked and they wanted to give her only the best. Two miles from the top, the air was thin and her breath came heavy. One mile from the top, she could barely fill her lungs.
After six months of climbing the tower, the girl finally reached the top. She was near death. When the little old man saw the young girl he hurried over and gave her what little food and water he had. After she had recovered, the girl said, "I have climbed for months, and I have been hungry, and thirsty, and tired, and cold, and I haven't had a good deep breath in such a long time. I want to know the secrets of Life, the Universe, and Everything."
The old man smiled and turned away. He walked to the edge of his room and looked out. And he just stood there, looking out, completely ignoring the young girl. So she scrambled up and put her face close to the old man's. "You have to tell me—I came all this way . . . Why won't you say anything? Why won't you tell me?"
The old man, without looking down, said, "I am telling you."
And the girl didn't understand, but after a while she followed the old man's eyes. The girl looked out. And the girl saw the world from seven miles up, and everything looked so small and so large at the same time, and the young girl asked for a chair but the old man had already brought her one.
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