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My Apocalypse

A woman writes to ask
how far along I am
with my apocalypse.

What will you give me
if I tell?

An origami fish
made from a dollar bill.

After the apocalypse,
we will all be in a band.

We will understand each other


“It’s alright” and

“It doesn’t matter.”

Let “it” stand
for nothing.


A weathered, fleshy bicyclist
wearing bunny ears
and a tie-dyed shirt
says “Zoom”
as she coasts past

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