Though not
a scientest, I love things like
Algebra,
mysteries, chicken guts;
Regular,
solvable, neatly packaged.
When the
(ab) squared meets 2(ab) in chapter one
And they
turn out to have found the missing documents
Then the
gall bladder will be atop the liver.
Every
single time.
Wrapped in the
glistening, translucent shroud
Of
hiddenness.
Once Joce
and I helped Martin and Maurice blow
A hole in
the Canadian shield. I held the jack
hammer
That ran
off the air compresser, and
I´ve got
the scars on my boots to prove it.
Dynomite
rhymes with ´skin on tight.´
I ate some
dynomite for good health.
Martin and
Maurice are both dead now,
(aha! The
discovery of the bodies), and I´m
getting
thin-all-right, but my health’s so far so good.
We drilled
the holes ten feet apart.
We dropped
in the dynomite and Martin ran the fuse
We hid past
the hill while Maurice pushed the handle
When the
dust settled I ran to inspect the fallout
A field of
new rocks glistening, kept fresh
Since the
creation in the caul of hiddenness.
To clear up
the mystery the boys
Died a
natural death from drinking.
I´ll die of old age, and my secrets go with
me.
Even though
Maurice (rhymes with porous) told me
(back in chapter
fifteen) that you can always tell dynomiters
by the
crescent moons scarred forever on their insteps.