entering the end of the world junkyard

it's an apocalyptic

landscape

as you wait in line to drop

off your

junk.

to the left is a field of refrigerators,

tall

and fat,

silver and white,

black.

to the right

stoves

and microwaves are piled

high,

ovens

and other broken dreams

filled

then emptied with

decades of

memories.

straight ahead are

computers,

long strands of wires

and cables,

phones, monitor screens.

televisions

of every era.

from Milton Berle

to Gutfeld,

then into the pit are cans

of paint,

half full, half empty,

pesticides and oil.

the grease of the world

goes there.

wood and tin, plastic

and

metals of all kinds are scattered

everywhere.

there's not a seagull

in the air,

there's nothing to eat here,

it feels like it might start

raining

any second now,

as i wait my turn

at the end

of the world.