To Meg, and the End of Capitalism

Is it time to mourn yet?

Photo by Elliott Engelmann on Unsplash

I’m waiting for the end of the story.

I guess they call it a punch line because without it, you’re stuck anticipating the impact, wincing at what might be. Everything hits harder in the future.

I dreamed last night it was a joke, or an accident, something unintentional and light. You walked back out of the woods…