Notes from the Living Dead
Oh, it’s not as bad as all that.
Lots of fresh air and exercise. We range
at a leisurely pace, no one feels the need
to get ahead. Hobbling along without a care,
we’ve forgotten where we come from,
have no interest in where we’re going,
or when we get there, or even if we get there.
Haste we consign to a past perplexed with
appointments to be kept, challenges to be
mastered, all the petty disruptions of daily life.
We’ve done away with excuses, regrets
And do not bother about appearances,
the rigors of personal hygiene. Who cares
what face to show the world when so many
of us are composed of missing body parts?
Besides, it’s exhilarating to be swept up into
something larger than oneself, to share
a common purpose with like-minded souls.
As for the hunger---the unremitting, ceaseless hunger---
Well, you just get used to it after a time.
The Roundup
We always knew this night was coming,
and here it is at last; a voice that sounds
almost familiar, our own dead fathers
calling us in for supper: “You in there!
You have sixty seconds to give yourselves up!”
As we step outside, I notice that every house
up and down the block is surrounded. Neighbors
I hardly know well enough to say hello to
are squinting out their doors with
embarrassed smiles: “But officers, I’m sure
there’s been a terrible mistake.”
But here we are anyway: the good citizens
of North Maple Nut Avenue being led away
in our bathrobes and slippers as if nothing
could be more natural. I’m trying to remember
if I turned off the lights. Who’ll feed the dog
while we’re away? Behind me I hear someone
whimpering; so I make a squiggly face at
my wife, who tucks in a stray curl and smiles
back at me. What else to do but hope for
the best? Soon we’re all walking along briskly
making small talk. “Can that be the moon?”
I ask one of the men, pointing up at
that soapy plate glowing through a rinse of
silver clouds. “What the hell else would it be?”
he says, then gestures with his truncheon,
”Come on, folks, let’s just keep moving along.”
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