The Last of Us

Riley Bingham

April 27, 2016

Asleep with mulch in the hot tariff of summer dawns,
bruised worse than oil, smelling of oleander
& a family of dogs. What was funny when the world existed

still holds: Dr. Oceanfront, Hall of Fame Top 10 Reviewer
is a favorite life of ours to consider. Long after the last Amazon
order went through, is he out there

foraging old stores of food, refilling
his shotgun. Muttering five stars at everything, five stars at
all he sees. Stubborn, crazed, and hopeless alone:

not privileged to the healthy pus of good companionship,
a link to light you. Connexion. Even when we met
some crystalled jockeys, walking koans

(who knows where they found it) it was nice. Just
nice. A moment to appreciate. But they tried us so
I shot one in his eye

then mouth. S templed the other
with a scissored bat. We sat next to their bodies. Warm
& again secure,

we treated ourselves
to language’s great fortnight,

to a can of beans & stories of—
what else could we tell stories of—

of how it was

of who we were

of how we came to be

alone