I want to write a book and call it
Things to Do While Waiting for
the World to End.
No real plot,
just a grocery list of how to play
tenant to the void. Sit in the sun
for fifteen minutes and hate every
second of letting it caress me.
I do
not like to be touched, not the way
I used to, now knowing the body
to be finite. Everything will end,
just as suns set and friendships
die, and how no one really talks
the way we used to, way back when
earth wasn’t barely clinging to life
by a dying respirator. I’m running
out of things to do while waiting
for whatever we’re waiting for,
whether it be a belly-up ending or
a beginning no one prepared for.

Here are some more things to do
while waiting: Talk to God. Plant
a garden. Drive yourself wild by
the things you loved as a kid. Cry,
like really cry, the same way you
did when it first hit you: nothing
would ever feel the same again.

It’s like the night before the first
day of school again, and still
none of us can fall asleep.

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