The Idea
Picture a concrete box. Now imagine that concrete box has a steel skeleton inside. This box gets water from its top opening. The box has holes on its sides; sometimes on the bottom too. Pipes stick into the holes. Water flows from a pipe, through the box, and into another pipe. Boxes and pipes like sitting next to one another in a pattern. The box, pipe, box, pipe pattern happens again and again until it doesn’t.
Some Quirks
A catch basin’s style is lacking. It only likes square shapes, rectangular shapes, and circular shapes. I’ve heard a story about a catch basin taking the shape of a hexagon, but my leg was being pulled.
In my state, there are many catch basins with their own names. Being concrete and not human, they don’t have any language. They call themselves numbers instead. #12 is smaller than #14. #10 has a strange neck deformity. #42 likes sitting by itself far from the group. They aren’t a jolly bunch but they get along well.
Truly Poetic
This all sounds rough, ugly, and prosaic. But catch basins are certainly poetic. Look at them. They’re made of great heaps of crushed stone harvested from a mountain. Ashes, water, and hidden brews jump into the mix. Steel, made from a hot forge and woven like your grandmother’s basket, tucks itself into the stone soup. The next day, a grey box appears. Dozens lower themselves into the ground, buried alive. Decade after decade they handle violent forces of water. None of them break a sweat. None of them grumble.
