Tag: writer

he wandered for a year
among corpses and deserted buildings
one morning everyone had gone mad
and each body he found was
riddled with bullets
every cartridge emptied, every magazine spent

he hoped that, now,
since he really was the last man on earth
if he could find a woman,
he might finally get some action
but that seemed less likely
with each new sunset

animals avoided him
he thought, not out of fear
but out of some kind of pity

the supermarkets were still stocked
even though the fresh food had rotted
cans and boxes were plentiful
the food had expiration dates
years in advance
cereal bars and beef jerky

he never spotted another person
man or woman
and after a while
he stopped talking even to himself
he knew he’d never be able to bury the dead
not all of them
not even all of the ones
in his small hometown

guns were as plentiful as cans
of tuna and jars of peanut butter
but there wasn’t a single bullet left