this is how it ends

i wait for the bus

but it doesn't come. i stand
there

all morning.
not a soul around.

pigeons pace
nervously

beside the empty benches.
i walk to work, but
there's no one there.

the doors are locked.
the windows
shut tight.

a newspaper blows by.
a tumble
weed

of ancient news.

i go for coffee, the doors
are closed,

then head over to the church.
locked tight.

not a confession being
heard.

i stare into my phone.
everyone is
at home, but me.

there is no where left to
go. this is how

it ends. i suppose.