Kenopsia

A momentary apocalypse Or something very near to that For an instant, I am the only survivor. The road stretches before me like an exposed Femur, straight and bare As if all the cars had died, decayed, and been carried off by vultures on the side of the highway Nothing more than roadkill. There is a strange, solitary silence That echoes in my chest 72 times per minute As if I am the only creature breathing in 196.9 million square miles A sacred and fleeting feeling. And if I were alone The last of the human race, would I cross the finish line Or sit and watch the sun sink into flames for the last time?