The End
When everything to bits is blown and all
remained of us are brainless bits of bone,
I wonder who will see our species fall,
all snapping selfies on our Android phones.
He’ll have to be E.T., most certainly,
to have survived a fool’s apocalypse.
And if I’m right, he’ll use telepathy
instead of flapping gums and smacking lips
to share with folks back home our final tale:
The town will gather ‘round our foreign friend,
his star-boiled gils resembling flaky shale,
and all will think as one, until the end,
and then together shake their slimy heads,
distraught to learn our parents slept in separate beds.
*Proudly written on my phone
while waiting at TGIF for a haircut :)
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