When you encounter a sign that says Road Closed

decide you have been excused from work.

Take a U-turn, go back home.

Pour yourself a tall glass.

Take a book of poetry to the porch or balcony.

If anyone asks, the road was closed.

Next day take the same road,

encounter the same sign,

excuse yourself again.

But this time pour several glasses

take out several books of poetry.

Shout The road is closed!

Tell everyone they’re excused from work,

convince them there’s no reason

to try another road,

find a detour or a bus,

or even to walk.

Together ponder

the meaning of closed.

The next day start a movement

maybe even create a website,

perhaps call it Road Closed,

include links to critical theorists

such as Derrida and Foucault,

invent a discourse

about the discursive practices

that result in closures.

Become a biopowerless collective

in pursuit of porch time

to deconstruct the meanings of road signs—

a mind consuming endeavor

for which understandably

we all should be

excused from work.