The End is Nigh
I am a closet member
of a doomsday cult.
I am the only member.
I refrain from recruiting
It would be wrong to crush
their innocence, their optimism,
their love of miniature plastic dolls.
I try periodically to recruit my husband
This I blame on the Y2K countdown
when all his friends stocked up on canned soup
and extra tubes of toothpaste
which they thought to use as cash.
My husband scoffed and
was proven right.
Now he feels himself immune
from the impending doom.
I remind him of his uncle in Rangoon,
the one who saved up silver bars
and so could eat when the government
rescinded the currency.
But that was Burma, he says,
and this is now
and there’s plenty of rice in the pantry.
In case you’re wondering, that little piece was inspired by this completely freaky article in the Walrus about the end of oil and the collapse of civilization as we know it. I know, I know. Just call 1-800-JOIN-CULT-NOW, and press extension 1 to reach me.