Could we call this a sequel to “Day 49?” I think in a way, it just might be. It might also just be another heartbreak poem because those always seem to be the easiest ones for me to write when I need to write a new poem. Anyway, let me know what you think!
When I walk outside, it’s hot and humid,
and I find myself tilting my nose up, smelling for smoke.
But I think that’s just Oklahoma in May.
Some end of the world, huh?
I expected parasitic aliens falling from the sky,
zombies rising from unmarked graves,
a survivor’s colony tucked away in the mountains.
At the very least, a romantic running.
You knocking on my door just as the evacuation sirens go off.
Me, bags already packed, ready to follow you to the edge of the Earth.
I guess nothing’s ending any time soon.
Is there toilet paper still missing from the grocery store shelves?
Am I still traipsing across state lines, trying to escape our memory?
Are your flowers still blooming?
The answer,
it’s not.
And here I am, writing a poem about it.
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