In the outlying towns: power lines on the ground. Counted change that I found around. Climbed to the top of the mound. Lasted just long enough to get to the edge of the bluff. City bus down below. Just enough gas to go. We drove down through the streets, the rain coming in sheets. We made it into the city to find a black cloud in the sky. A newspaper blew by. “I couldn’t make out the headline, but still, the mail trucks are in wrecks, the banks cancelled their checks. Guess we can write off our debts!” Smoke pouring from cars, we ducked into a bar and locked the doors and the windows. And now: “I’ve got some time on my hands. You’ve got some time on your hands. If you don’t have any plans...”