if the apocalypse has arrived
let's have apocalypse sex
where we hold each other against the shaking world
and build a shelter under my covers
and I will point out my friend's faces in old photographs
like the constellations at 11:11 at night
I'd walk with you along the yellow
lines in the middle of the street
and I'd allow you to point out the constellations
seen in the sky without street lights
through the dust
I think if we are living in the post-apocalypse
we could pick up our shared grief
and grow something better