By M.Hart
Date: 1 December 2000
The Last Man On Earth
The shell from
the hard, black plastic telephone
cover hangs empty.
So empty.
His gaze catches three
blocks worth of stoplights.
Red on - red off - red on -
red off
Flourescent lights torment and hum
with their harsh white-
blue light.
A shuffling wet "schick"
beneath his hard-soled
brown boots
The hands in his pockets
search for an answer.
He sighs.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner