When did the world end?
When our blood was poisoned in the 80s?
When Jackie wiped blood from her pink hat and face?
When Mennonites decided to bear arms?
It wasn't when the Manhattan Project launched.
Nothing so dramatic.
Or when the Pill went to market.
Or any single war back through the annals of time.
Maybe it was when an unknown Guatemalan coffee farmer
Who never could learn Spanish
Decided to sleep in one morning
And just gave up.
Or maybe when smoke rings
Blown from a barber's cigar in Seattle
Caused a bystander to choke
That thereafter all was lost.
The end of the world was determined the day that it began
And for me I hardly realized
How and when the world had ended
Because we kept going on
Even as the parade of death passed down my street
Walking toward the park
The sniper on the roof
Picking us off
And I took it for granted.
This is the way things are.
They end. They already ended.
We are just fiddling around right now.
July 12, 2017
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