ZOMBIES ALL

For George Romero

It was 1968 and
I was early in my junky run:
I'd just fallen in love
and had gotten married,
honeymooning with myself
at The Waverly theater
watching Night Of the Living Dead
at the midnight show.
I wasn't really "watching"
as much as I was nodding,
my upper body bent over
like a question mark
searching
for an easy transition
between here
and there.
I had yet to digest
pleasures
& make sense of "love"
& "food," & "need,"
& "desire." "Escape"
had me
in her talons.

Before I knew it
I had killed
another night.
I went back
to Coney Island
& stopped at Nathan's
for a frank.
I thought I'd cheated
death and felt proud
that I'd found
the place that fitted
almost like a cunt
without the dialogue.

The dead have grown
and are insatiable.
There is never enough
pleasure to go around.
Pass the salt.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017