Like the markets before
the Goblins controlled the trains
They worked the coal mines so long – the fuel
belonged to the Goblins
Sam smirked. We didn’t consider that.
YOU can lose unwanted POUNDS in just weeks.
They were right
losing weight was easy
she could count all her ribs.
I would love an airplane he said.
To fly, that would be like being a god.
There are no gods. She pointed out.
Not anymore. Sam kicked the rocks on the asphalt road.
But we need them, the gods, she continued.
Then make some up, he was tired of talking
Girls talked more than boys; he forgot that.
Okay, she said calmly, I will.
Some travelers were not thieves, but just wanted to share.
Sam still didn’t know which he preferred.
A handful of cigarettes adverted violence and bought silence
The girl took the stories – a traveling stenographer
In the Saloon at the End of the Line
a woman shared her huge apple
I had my arms up again,
her arms were deep red and scarred, her face spared.
He lit up right in front of me – a Roman Candle, remember those?
I hardly know what to do with myself now.
From the dark safe bunkers in the East, the corporation
issued questions from survey monkey:
1) how do you like us so far?
2) how’s the fall out?
3) do you feel more/less secure on a scale of one to ten
Ten being very secure.
A hacker from Montana sent in the results:
(1) Not secure
The site disappeared
Many forgot to vote
They came across the dead of course
Some random, caught in the blast, caught in the fall out, caught out.
Some lay in circular patterns, feet to feet, in a ragged cart wheel
Dead before the blast.
It was God, one guardian of such dead intoned
Your God killed them? The girl asked.
No, no, he impatiently waved his hand munching on a meat sandwich
No. They are with God
How do you know?
I sent them there.