The End of the End
THE END OF THE END
We’ve been here
before. This dying
place. Where time
stands still and bombs
rumble across
mountains. A scar
ripped through
the town. Fields of dead
cattle. Ranches turned
to meth labs. A place
without words or
memory. Dirt and
coke cans collect
next to the last
cup of coffee. The last
breakfast. Ghosts
of two hands
holding. A tiny
trailer with a tiny
mattress stuffed
with rat turds
and ragged
party dresses. A boy jabs
a BB gun in our faces.
Says we need to check
with his grandpa if
we want to enter
this dead place. As if
he is the keeper of
history. But we have
been here before. We
know the story. The
junk in the dustbin.
Asbestos falling like
snow. The way the ground
slides under our
feet when another
bomb is dropped.
Another building
gutted. Another
house emptied
of future and past.