The End

And when they came to the watershed in a '57 Chevy on an empty desert highway they stopped.

Squeezed the handle of one door strode toward the phosphorous setting sun enveloping grey and hand and in hand

A piece of gum a melancholy howl from a lonesome night wanderer and an end the end

Some say every end is also a commencement a graduation to another world But here, all things stopped Nothing followed A universe and omniscient imagination sealed into emptiness with a kiss