the end of the world

It's mediocre and old.. poem is on religion.

this morning, CNN told me
a meteor was going to hit
earth and the world was
going to end and we were
all going to die whether
we liked it or not.

Mr. and Ms. Wilson parked
their car in our driveway
and opened the door and
told me to hop in and
we would go to the
bomb shelter they built
just a few years ago
a few cities over

and I said a bomb shelter
isn't going to save us
from the meteor

but Mr. Wilson said yes
it will we're not going
to die

and I said I wouldn't
die but they might if
they went to the shelter

and I carried a lawn
chair and a tape recorder
to the front porch
and went back indoors
to make myself a cup
of tea

and the neighbors drove
away and I sat down
and made myself comfy
and started recording

March eighteenth, the
end of the world

and I closed my eyes
and listened to the
songbirds screaming

March eighteenth, the
day everyone dies
except for me