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I Feel Fine


He appeared on the screen

            and told me in stereo

                        Get ready for the flood

the last time

            the world will weep

                                    for you.

I waited for a button prompt...

                                               "repeatedly tap 'X' to build some shit”



Rain crawled in 

            through openings I didn't know existed,

licking passed those grooves

                        nails left in studs,

                                    dripping out of the buttons

on my remote.




I thought of tan, slender, fingers

                                                with her knuckles,

                                                            holding herself

                                                                        all together.

I tried to touch them




Nearly consumed by walloping mounds,

            when the top of an old gazebo floated

                                    by with its rickety planks 

                                                that housed the community

                                                            Christmas tree every year.


I floated  down 

                                    where streets used to be,

                                                and felt so stale in the rain.

                                                                        There were


                         from soaked strangers

                                    wading and waiting 

                                                for a warm hand.


Between the wet gush of annihilation 

and the dizzying turbulence 

                                                            of the gazebo top,

                                                                        I couldn’t hold on.




The best they got 

                        (if anything)

was a final,

                                    slippery, high-five.




Restart from last save!

                        Are you sure?

                                                All progress will be lost.



The final pixels flickering  

            on Times Square mega tv's,

dying in a symphony 

                                    of salted

                                                last breath bubbles



Drifting amongst the remaining buildings,

                         I could see the top of everything 

                                                            that was created.


I looked into a corner office,

            liquor housed in crystal

                                     on a serving cart

just below pictures of family.


I looked for health and experience

                                                 but everything was still.


I thought the end would smell

                                                             like disease 

or gun smoke,

                        but it smelled like the beach

and lingered like it too.

I could’ve built anything.



                        Open new game file.


First published in Newtown Literary, issue 8, 2016

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