mmmdclxiv

it seems as if

my appearance on
the tonight show
has been canceled,
you, riding in the
passenger seat
with the wind
blowing through
your hair. but
we aren’t even
moving, the keys,
still in my hand (my
hands aren’t even
shaking, will you
look at that). but
we had emerged
from the desert,
somehow, the
wind blowing
through your
hair, before
the legions
of zombies,
so very
grateful
just to have
arrived alive.
look! there
it is! the
new bay bridge
in the distance!
but the traffic’s
backed up all the
way to sacramento.
which is fine, just you
and me, i mean, the
only ones that are
even barely moving,
given that once in
the city, we’ll find
it, too, overrun
with the walking
dead, staring
blankly into
us, or we
know
better,
right
through
us. ‘oh,
well,’ you
say, somehow
relieved, and having
lived to tell it. all of
those dead
pedestrians
who never
minded us
in the first
place.