The Grief of Solitary Salvation at the End of the World

Here it is: May 21. The end of the world.

Here I am: all alone. Where in hell is everybody else?
There, I guess. Most of them deserved it.

Never thought I was that good, frankly,
but I'm not going to pretend to be Job.
Nobody likes a complainer. Not even God.

I wonder whether the newspaper carrier
was left behind, too, or whether he will bring the paper.

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