|Metaphorically speaking, this fits right into my life|
|Just below the surface, waiting for the rare flood|
When I think of these sitting just below the surface, empty and dry for years possibly, and then suddenly filled with roaring water that has poured off the mountains in a storm, it takes my breath away. The power, the forces, the dramatic incompressible urgency of it, ripping through these pipes, redirected to somewhere other than these streets, seeking out the river elevation down below. I paused in front of one on my bicycle, and thought: one day through this space, unimaginable watery roar.