THE DAY THE ELEPHANTS WENT EXTINCT,
They were too busy not-missing the goats, not-caring about the lorikeets, not-remembering the dolphins… They were milling about in an empty, empty world.
I heard once that
the world is a mirror
so everything that happens to it
is actually happening to you
But that’s probably some crazy New Age shit.
I decided to be nice
& hold a vigil or something
for the elephants.
I thought about going to the forest
—but, oh yeah, no more trees.
Maybe I could set a candle adrift in a stream
—oh, right. There’s no water, either.
How’s a person supposed to hold a funeral in an empty-ass place like this?
Damn, I mumbled to myself.
Then, I had an idea.
I could just say a little prayer.
That’s right. It had been a while since anyone hit god up, you know. I figured now would be an opportune time to send him a ring.
So I lifted my eyes to the sky
(but there was no more sky)
& started to shout
(but there were no more words.)
But I figured, that was okay, because God probably went extinct, too. Along with the rest of creation.
And I looked around—you know—to see what else might’ve up-and-vanished while I wasn’t aware.
No more people.
No more plants.
No more animals.
I was alone.
I mean, I was already — we had all been alone — but now, it was like, official, you know?
So I figured, aww hell,
and felt myself fade
limb by limb
organ by organ
until it was just my eyes.
And then I see it, just before vision goes extinct too.
A tiger, stalking towards me.
He returns to remind me he never left.
He’s here to deliver the news.
But first he says to me:
I tried to warn you once
that the world is a mirror,
that everything happening to it
is happening to you,
Shit, that’s right. He did try to tell me.
Now he’s saying, “Your world must end now.”
He doesn’t have to say the rest.
I know what that means for me.
So he licks his sharp teeth,
and the last thing I see
is the color of destruction.