Halloween's a-comin' so it's high time to send this spooky poem I've been working on out into the world. Feel free to recite it at the local pumpkin patch next week.

Zombies

They don’t pay the tuition of the snake or sweat gasoline
While pushing their wheelbarrows down Mouse Lane

They don’t gamble with your round pillow-mirrors or
Garden with brand new barber’s shears

Sometimes an eyeball falls out—so what?

They wander around Guilford Forest checking out shadows
The arc lamps throw down around the snack shop

If your bicycle has white-walled tires they’ll strike a match
Across a brick then sing Jimmy Reed songs until
The moon comes out with used guitars and shopping cart drums

Sure they knock over café chairs and such but the rolled
Bandages dragging behind them sweep up pretzel bags and dust

If you want to watch them grump around the ferry dock
Cut a hole in the toes of a good pair of boots
And paddle into the mist alone

Sing along when they sing
Then see if you get home