End Times

Astronomers say the Earth will most likely end in fire.
So be it.

In the meantime I will drink Shiraz and listen to Ellie Goulding
who wants somebody, like we all want somebody.

Don’t tell me I’m naive. Don’t tell me not everyone wants
someone. Of all I don’t know, this is not one of them.

Join me if you like. I’ll have my wine and myself.
And you may have everything you are and love.

Leave nothing out. My room is small but there is space
for two or three bodies and the rocks and ghosts they carry.

Join me tonight. Every night. Work is killing me.
I want to come home to you who are filled with hate. I want

time with you. Time enough to see that the hate between us
is a mirage, a smear of heat and grief on our faces.

A made up meanness. I don’t want to die this way. Come
closer and it will dissipate, drop like old oak leaves

and reveal our human nakedness, our scars and moles,
odd blotches like tattoos on the hands and cheeks.

Let the world end in fire a billion years into the future.
For now, for tonight, bring me your body.

I want to bring you mine.

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