Retrospective, At The End

By Sand Pilarski

I think about us, alone, at the end of the world;
our lives peeled back,
the very fabric of reality unfurled.

Or if we were stranded, on an island, you and I;
long waves breaking,
palm trees swaying in the breeze against an azure sky.

What if we were the last two explorers at the Pole,
our fuel all gone --
and just our heat to keep alive body and soul?

I would take my chance with the penguins or polar bears,
trudge out the door,
teeth gritted, on snowshoes, loudly mumbling, "Who cares?"

With strung-together coconuts I'd set out to sea,
in my bare skin,
afraid of death by jellyfish or shark -- not me.

Apocalypse dissolves the universe. Out you go,
into the void,
my swift kick making sure that you reap what you sow.

You're such a jerk. To you, my value was less than dirt.
Your greatest crime?
Never noticing that your inattention hurt.