We're headed somewhere
But nobody is driving
We're all just sitting
Thinking
Smiling
Trying to enjoy the ride
Through the city that's too calm
But so are we
Although the un-dead creep
In alleys near familiar streets
We make small talk
Stay off our feet
On a bus ride
Pleasant bus ride
To the end times
This poem is about a dream I had recently. Most of it is a blur now but I remember knowing there were zombies around although I never saw any myself. It was a bit unsettling but at least I got a poem out of it :D.
Peace.
Image sourced form pixabay.com
Deeply metaphysical and not a little disconcerting, too. It could be very true that transportation services to the other side are no longer what they used to be. Is anybody getting across any more at all? Let's start building a speed train made of your poetry to maybe get us across. At least, we will really be enjoying ourselves!
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Thanks, I think I might like a poetry train!
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