Kenopsia
A momentary apocalypse
Or something very near to that
For an instant, I am the only survivor.
The road stretches before me like an exposed
Femur, straight and bare
As if all the cars had died, decayed, and been carried off by vultures on the side of the highway
Nothing more than roadkill.
There is a strange, solitary silence
That echoes in my chest 72 times per minute
As if I am the only creature breathing in 196.9 million square miles
A sacred and fleeting feeling.
And if I were alone
The last of the human race, would I cross the finish line
Or sit and watch the sun sink into flames for the last time?
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