The drain pipe
was dusty
a concrete portal
rising above their
heads
stagnant
and musty
The boys
stood
sizing
up the dark
ahead
anticipation
running through
their limbs
like brown ants
in the dirt
It's hard to
remember
who went first
torch light flashing
skirting the curving
shadows
scuttling beetle
legs
who had the long
stick for slashing
low hanging
webs
There were
rumours
of wild pigs
in the creek
so they ambled
through the drains
listening
for pealing squeals
that never came
It was a game
wandering through
the labyrinth
without a map
better than Scouts
They were
Lord of the Flies
losing all sense of
direction
until a section
ended
sudden
with them
dazed
blinking
in the sun
They sauntered
for a little way
unperturbed they might
disturb
blue tongues
snakes
short-beaked echidnas
white-naped Honeyeaters
meandering
shoulder to shoulder
or jumping off
round boulders
until they found
the next
stormwater drain
and they disappeared
again
Inside
the gentle sloping
of the land
went unnoticed
watches useless
in a place
where time has
no meaning
but they hunched
when the pipes
joined
bumpy seams
convening
yelled up and
down the tunnels
voices funneling
left then right
bouncing round
bends
sometimes
overlapping
No one to
warn
of gasses
massing
the possibility
of drowning in
3 inches
danger was as distant
as a bird
high in a eucalyptus
tree
Brave back then
the boys explored
the man made
caves
for an hour
a day
until pipe and
bushland broke
to cast them to
the Bay
and they waded
through
the waves to reach
the beach