Stroll Through Apocalypse (Draft)

This poem is inspired by a stroll I took through a rather quiet campus last night. And I'ma try to revise some things while in Tucson.
~~~

They celebrated the end of the semester
by delivering dumpsters to each dormitory.
Roommates dumpster dive together
finding food and drink in bulk
discarded on account of space saving.
One shouts this is enough food for a month
even though this is their last night together.
Will they split their spoils up?

This might be the apocalypse.
In the Starbucks the employees
are only making drinks for themselves.
Cars are parked where they have never been seen before:
lawns, sidewalks, courtyards.
The lamp posts still shine
as courteous as slaves can be.
The sprinklers have been given free reign
their malfunctions froth in the grass,
the excited ones dream of being fountains,
their wild outbursts temporarily stain the sidewalks,
puddles the few pedestrians out tonight must walk around.

Lovers
men and women
in two by twos stand in the shadows of buildings.
Whether
she is leaving him
or he her
does not matter.
Tonight is their last night
they will be split apart by summer.
Their last secrets transmitted lip to lip.

Proximity (a draft)

I am jealous of your polo shirt.
It gloats
and reminds me that I cannot go to work with you,
or to the supermarket to buy that night’s dinner.
But after the pasta
when you and I are sharing the same space again,
I look at your polo shirt,
now glowering at me from the floor,
and smile.