I make the predawn turn
on the way to my husband’s work,
note the same tall building
we pass every time:
window treatments of particle board,
graffitid exterior spray painted
to match the neighborhood palette.
I think of the apocalypse:
such a building would well serve
to barricade against a plague
of our own making,
keep out the undesirable
as we shelter ourselves
from those we cannot see.
Then I realize, we do that