Letter from the End of the World

I hope you are receiving my letters
Here it smells of cut flowers
And earth, and mayonnaise
Children shout from sealed coffins
Receding on automatic gears
The ground is extremely fragile here
An old woman sprays every morning
To keep it from crumbling
Wind is unknown
And this light breeze is terrifying
Klaxons sound from morning to night
They sound like lawnmowers, and
Television programs, and tired old women
I have covered my nostrils
But even so the stink persists
Dear friend, I hope you are still alive
When this letter finds you

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