We were warned of opportunity cost
but it’s a price we were willing to pay.
Skipping work for a long drive past
the responsible distance that culminates
at the end of the highway.
She was driving with one hand switching
the signals until the songs matched up
with what we saw around us.
Empty fields that had all dried in the sun proved
doing nothing was a deceptive appearance.
The mounds were built with people’s hands
packing them into their shape.
We watched the sun trace all their outlines
out of shade and counted the hours
for the daylight to fade.
Ignoring all the phone calls and the pitches
for what we knew we’d never need.
The wind kicked up around us and carried
all our heavy thoughts away.
We headed back the same direction
with our free time ticking down.
There was a sad sight in her eyes against
the far off edge of town.
She pulled up to my building and dropped me off.
I waved as she drove away and then turned
back to my rusted staircase. When I got
to the top I looked out at the street,
and saw everyone fresh from their long days
rushing home to get off of their feet.
Teleporting Typewriter 