End Times

The whole street smelled like fryer grease ,
and made the people
walking slowly with no money
extra hungry.

Not me though I was focused on
a cigarette wedged perfectly
in a gap between the sidewalk tiles.
The rail I leaned against was cold
and my warm breath
burst out of me while I waited for
imaginary trains.

When I was younger I used to
never want the summer to end,
and now I get so happy when it does.
It was probably more about school
than the weather, but I don’t know,
I probably just got older.

A red brick building in my nightmares
is pretty tame compared to
being crushed under a heavy door
while something I can’t see
begins to eat me.

Or when I tried to go buy liquor
and the guy in line in front of me
had a gun fall from his hip
that shot up everything.

Maybe I’d feel safer if I carried
a knife in my pocket.
Even if I never wound up using it,
I could always open letters
without having to look around
for something sharp.

Although, the other day I found my mailbox
destroyed and shattered in the street,
like someone ripped it from the ground
then took a hammer to it.

My stomach made noise
in the crowded elevator
when I was leaving the hotel,
last time I saw you,
and I’ve been waiting for
a sign to finally tell you.

I guess I won’t be hearing
from you after all.