The End Is (not) Near

Since my earlier (“Closed Door”) poem was so kinda negative, I thought maybe I’d turn things around a little with this one:

———[||]———

The End Is Near

Are you sure you want to shovel the porch,
first thing tomorrow, even before coffee,
go trudging to the end of the driveway,
dig out the drifted mailbox in search of
week-old ads and nearly expired coupons
before we try to fire up the Tacoma
and navigate the black-iced back roads
over to the glazed and deserted sidewalks
in Newport just so we can lay claim to our
favorite window seat at Montgomery’s,
order up second cup and maybe a slice
(or a couple slices) of your favorite quiche
before we try to navigate the Boardwalk?

Olay. I’m with you. Count me in, sister.
It’s been a hell of quarantine winter, eh?

One thought on “The End Is (not) Near

  1. Wow! You are within shouting distance of the border, aren’t you?
    I used to enjoy being able to call across the Niagara River to Canada, but at least I wasn’t so far north. However, I’ve always admired the autumn colors of Vermont.

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