Lightbulbs ignore switches, radios ignore knobs.
57 channels and everything is blank.
No cars, no buses, no trucks, no vans.
No mail. No toilets. No showers. No phones.
Is it Tuesday? Is it Friday? I forget. It doesn't matter now.

Everything is on sale...whatever is left.
Rotten vegetables? Free, complete with stench.
Chunky milk, rotten eggs, skunky beer, dead bouquets.
All sales final.

The hills are alive with the sight of corpses.
Parking lots filled with metal coffins.
Suburbs packed with wooden ones.
Cremations by the city block.
Is the city even there?

I miss the noise. I miss the crime.
I miss the bad news. I miss it all.
Where are the doctors? Where are the police?
If we lost, then where are the invaders?
Did we win?

Shadows falling. The air is getting colder.
Another meal with tin cans. Another day with no shower.
And just what should I do? What can I do?
Just scavenge and hoard. And hope.

Hope for what? That something works. Eventually.