Monday, March 17, 2008

Drive Up

Breakfast is cold and there are zombies in the window,

The whole earth has them arriving to ask

To use the phone and then eat you. That is how they work

Without even opening their mouths.

There must be something wrong with the poor man, you say,

And then Chomp you're on your way, gooed up.

People will no longer admire the sunrises

Because the light will only reveal how everything is gone

To shit. Which always was the probing truth.

There was one time when someone would cut

A hole in the ground and dig around for precious stones,

Just the same some fool would root in his head for a clean

Idea to marvel everyone with and give some little

Glitter to it all. You could see it on the TV first thing

In the morning when the light was soft and you

In your Pajamas could get optimistic before they

Came to the windows with their breakfast orders,

And all the editors wrote down zombie names

And addresses where they could be found rubbing

The rough stucco on your house soft trying to get

Their orders right. And the chef who made it in

To the gas station at the last minute can cut

Up some old Twinkies and braze them with electrodes

Yanked from old electric telephones still stuck

To the wall and juiced.

And that marquee out front is just as old and cheesy

And holy-roller as you can please and the lord

Don't want no early bird special. But that zombie does,

The trucker feller with half a head and teeth, he got a

Manifest on your load. And there is a bird, and a boy

In a red cap, and some hunters in Camo overalls

And just think, it'll all be over when you say go, give up

The rifle and stand up and declare the diner to be up and

Open the window and take a fast, fast food order.

No comments: