No Soul Descried

~ No Soul Descried ~ He sauntered out and rubbed his eyes No soul descried, left or right Were all the rumors true, not lies? Mid-day the hour, not dark midnight He scratched his head, pressed on downtown There, windows boarded, sealed up tight Deserted sidewalks, void of sound Most all stores shuttered, dark their lights Now stares at him a frightful sight Two heads, four eyes; test-tube, thin frame His ray gun gleaming -- Awful plight! The human prays, his life fair game "Am I alone? Last man alive?" God paused and smiled: "Hand-picked ~ Survive!" Iambic Tetrameter