Sometimes I wonder what the end of the world will feel like.
When I imagine a bang I imagine my Aunt’s dishes crashing to the linoleum of the kitchen all at once
The china she saved for things like Christmas
Things like my younger sister being born
the end of mankind?
I imagine as we listen to the final chapter of our story
courtesy of the news channel
she will wish she used them more
For things like Supper
For things like my cousin scoring two home runs.
When I imagine our world filling with quiet I imagine us
at my great grandfather’s deathbed
thinking about Promise
thinking about Fate
to assure our callow minds that there is
(He had many books)
(He went with ease)
Everyone expected it but only in a fictional sense
We say things like Everyone dies
the truth is
we all have at least a fraction of a trace of a glimmer of hope that it won’t
When I imagine the lights switching off I imagine we will all be running through routine
at grocery stores
thinking about what the boy you like had said to you at school earlier and over-the-elementary-school-desk whispers like what to wear on Thursday and who likes who
We’ll tell each other stories
stories about empty diners and a ghost jukebox
Mio Amore by the Flamingos on repeat as we sway in milk light at dusk
one hand intertwined with another
(Take my heart and my soul)
(Our love will never run cold)
This is what it will feel like when we die.