Proceed to the Last

by philip G. Taylor

The day before the apocalypse
the streets will become a canvas
on which children draw in chalk
tomatoes and bumblebees and tidal waves.
Grown-ups will be sitting cross-legged
on the sidewalk
learning how to be carefree again,
casting aside banisters and masks
("campaigning at its best")
from gorilla suits and angler fish.

Brick road is showing through
where rain has picked away
pavement like a scab.

The city is molting
and the butterflies are playing tag;
the cars and buses are full
of laughter,
fountains erupting in the field,
paper trees burning wishes,
the child with mittens too big
is running and screaming
like a peg-legged parakeet,
the bicycles have elephantitis
and the swarming bees are singing
to every watching being
waiting for the hurricane.