Apocalypse

To glorious summers

I want to go backTo those glorious summers of youCarefree cigarettesIn sunny beer gardensOver cheap house redCareless words exchangedSignalling nothingBut the joy of fruitless conversationAs we felt each other out with wordsAnd ideasAnd storiesTo while away all the timeIn the world Followed by car trips Dripping with anticipation To dance intense With other ecstatic seekers…

Train Story 3: tuna

Tuna was the dominant smell. The whole carriage was high with the stench. People were screaming, laughing, screwing, fighting. I had thought many thing about the end of the world; I had expected human degradation and desperation; but never the smell of tuna. Overwrought I struggled out of my seat and down the seething aisle….