Hat crammed onto my head I walk
the streets. Nowhere to go now we have failed
ourselves for the last time. Elbowing through dirty
crowds of lost souls, I trip over a warm groaning body.
Sweating and feeling not unlike a corpse myself
I contemplate the glaring truth; we are all
beyond help; finally I spy the
park! Amazingly it’s
quiet here. Most
As I watch the mushroom cloud.