A zombie’s
Walking around the street
Struggling to move
With his decomposed feet

He’s hungry
That’s about all that’s
Going through his head
When he walks through the intersection
His breathing is heavy
His arms feel like lead

And at the middle of the street
He feels ready to drop
And so abruptly halts
And comes to a stop, swaying
As the breeze blows through his
Blood-caked hair

The world is quiet
Now
It belongs to the dead
The things left behind
Whatever is left

His vision is blurry
As if there were tears
But through this perception
A small blur appears

Come shuffling figure
From the pharmaceutical store
She too has rotten
Her dress is all torn

As she moves closer
He tilts his head
Bones in his neck cracking
To see if she’s dead

Yep. Still no food and so
He ignores her
They don’t talk, their
Vocal chords are no more

She hobbles closer
And her stench fills
Whatever is left
Of his nostrils

Rotten meat and
Old blood
Torn muscle and
Organs surrounded by flies

But…

Tangerine
She smells like tangerine
A smell he’d forgotten
As it wasn’t meat
And he felt her grow closer
What was tangerine?

Tan-ger-ine
Tang…

And then he remembered
A woman held close
A beautiful laugh
A smell he’d loved most

Yes.
Tangerine.

But…
Then she passed
And then he forgot
His nose filled once more
With the stench of rot

Standing there
Almost sadly it seemed
He closed his blurry eyes

And the zombie dreamed.