Welcome to my post-apocalyptic novel

A poem

Welcome to my post-apocalyptic novel:
it's all the rage I hear
to fast forward past
whatever all this is 
and just go on:
smash the world to bits
'n then ta hafta to live with it.
Whose got whiskey?
Whose got smokes?
Whose got a good head
and a sense of direction?
Got yer canvas backpack 
and eternal youth?
Let's get out there and 
see what there is to see
How long we can last 
on the bullets we carry
and these canned beans?
What's our story arc?
Which 12 year old girl
is our destiny's child?
Are we the heroes 
unknowingly soothing the world
or the bad dudes, 
picking at the scabs?
Maybe this dust we kick up
is just for ambience.
Maybe its a portent.
Trepedition rises as
the girl coughs. 
Make a right past 
the burning fields 
someone says,
I think it's just
over that hill.
Then, comes the groan.

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It’s April 22 of NaPoWriMo.

There’s a lot of sci-fi and fantasy stories in the world and many people love to read them. They aren’t my favorite genre — I’m not sure why. I love literary fiction: stories that are human and hit close to home. A good sci-fi story has to be really character driven for my taste. Not too obvious. Not too gory. Not too many goofy monsters. (That’s just me!) And not 9,000 pages!