48 / 198
48
cars, nothing more – even bashful bushes, roots
compressed, had grown dizzy from
višņovska
and said
goodbye unnoticed, not to return. Some of them sat on for
a time, and the boys tried to catch them unaware and whisk
them onto the tram. Having eaten cookies, the boys stroked
the furniture, that in the twilight took on the hardhearted
expression of mountains. Empty drawers and shelves stood
and were silent. Francis had a flashlight in his hands, he
and John crept together into the sideboard gnawed by
wood borers, shining their first step into the cave, from the
opening of which splintery fragments starred out. At the
end there was no going forward. There was no path farther.
Evening. And the boys lay down to nap, having their fists
out under their heads. First one has to have one’s sleep, and
then the explorations can continue.