If this was a war, it'd be
a jarhead or jock taunting
me to man up. But this
is a zombie invasion, so
it was a hipster in our group,
wondering if we'd be able
to do the deed and call
head shots in shifts to
save us before a thaw.
There it was on the side street
a zombie looking titled
for it's futile effort to
eat off it's own hand
from a chain link fence.
Whether from fatigue,
adrenaline, or a need
to stay warm,
I felt like a boy with
his first rifle and
his first deer already
wounded for him.
A kid's scream from
the house behind
the gate pleaded with me
before I lifted my weapon.
Later, when my group
joined me, a story.
The father infected,
a family settling
for even a twisted Christmas
one more time as a whole.
We kept any street cred
to ourselves until
turning a street corner.
I offered to shovel their sidewalk.
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