This time, Pandora does not open the box.

 

This time, Pandora is a little girl in downtown Manhattan

Who peeks around corners and always gets into places she shouldn’t

She is a bright girl,

A sweet girl,

And so, so, curious

Her mother watches her go and thinks

That will get her into trouble someday.

 

This time, Pandora darts across the street without checking for safety.

She is snagged back from the brink of danger just in time by her mother

And is scolded for her rashness.

When she turns to look,

The spotted cat she saw on the other side of the street ducks into an alley

And is gone.

She resolves to be quicker next time.

 

This time, Pandora talks to her teachers after class.

They discuss everything and nothing

The sky, the clouds, last night’s homework

Nothing is too big or too small to be pulled apart by her nimble hands.

 

This time, Pandora becomes a journalist

Speaking with everyone

And never accepting simple answers

She catches wind of something strange going on in the city

And decides to investigate.

 

This is the box.

 

This time, Pandora’s obscure passion for economics comes in handy

As she sifts through file after file

Trying to understand where all this new money

Is coming from.

 

This is the key.

 

This time, Pandora receives a hand-written note slipped under her door

Telling her to stop looking

To forget what she’s found

And not tell anyone.

 

This is the lock.

 

This time, Pandora does not open the box.