near an orange grove that overlooked a sizable irrigation canal, with the hot, dry air or summer
prickling my skin as I stared long into the deep,
dark water. Then I looked up and across, and
it was the desert on the other side.
Across the canal, bare to the waist, was
a women I had a crush on when I was
younger, (still have a crush on), who I've lost contact with some years ago. She'd been
very upbeat when I knew her, but now her
face was fixed in a scowl and she was digging
lines into the sand with a large tool that
resembled a large rake and a garden spade
at the same time. The tool was made out
of some strange type of metal, and crooked,
as if forged by hand.
She was looking at the sky, squinting, and
then making very calulated movements on
the ground with her tool, almost in a 'triangle'
yoga asana when she looked into the sky.
I had no idea what she was doing there,
and was concerned she'd burn from the sun.
I called her name and she ignored me, then
I asked when she was up to, and she told me
the the world was ending in ten minutes and
she had a lot of work to do. Something in her
voice made me realize she was the one ending
the world.
I was not so much upset at the world ending,
it was more like there was so much to do
that wouldn't get done and I wanted to be
held and told that everything would be OK.
But I knew that wouldn't happen, and wept.
And I stared at the sky, wailing, waiting for
the Earth to end, knowing she wouldn't
change her mind, that I'd meet the end of
the world by myself on the other side of the
canal.
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