In their enthusiasm, they built roads
(huge, wide things, six lanes or more, sidewalks)
for which they had no buildings, through forest,
or through meadow. But to drive them, empty
and spacious, is a kind of luxury.
You have passed from, at fifty miles per hour,
reality; prime industrial space.
And into what? At an empty crossroad,
kids have knocked down the “road closed” barriers,
the black circles of their tires crossing,
crisscrossing, looping across that square of
white concrete. With the barriers down
you can drive right through to where the road ends,
leave your car, and walk through dirt, to the woods.