Grape vines grow like veins
over the surface of a wooden fence
that’s leaned against by her
wrapped in the jacket she stole
from my bedroom
before I woke up.

She didn’t want to talk
but did anyway just to maintain
the good energy of the day.
I confessed that I’d been looking
almost everywhere.

She said she didn’t care
and all the spinning sunglasses
on those racks in every store
kept turning more and more
until the world was over.

Now I’m sitting on the last
stone bench in the apocalypse
and the whole sky is just her face
still looking down at all the burning ground
and smiling because she knows
that it is hers.

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