This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends,

with the bang of a

million trees exploding,

with the whimper of a

thousand koalas dying,

and unbreathable smoke,

and blowing dust,

and drying earth,

and drying rivers,

and a howling wind,

and a bloody Sun,

and a feeling of

utter helplessness.

General Donald J. Trump

Viewed from afar,

in ignorance,

really, and with

no dog in the hunt,

no skin in the game,

no horse in the race,

it seems to me

that America has

recently refought

her Civil War,

but this time

the South won.

Better late

I reached my

seventies, it

seemed, in a rush.

Suddenly I was

wandering in

a forest of years:

71, 77, 73, 78,

74, and look,

over there, at

the edge of the

forest, is 79.

And I think,

“I won’t be in

this forest very

long, for I am

running through

it. I should make

up my mind soon

what I am going

to do with my

life.”

Believe it or not

Convince someone
to believe in an
imaginary
creature who
lives in the sky
and takes an
interest in
the outcome of
football games
and the purchase
of lottery tickets
and the number
of survivors in
airplane crashes,
and you can get
them to believe
in anything.