Train of Zombies
Train of Zombies

When I climbed aboard in Boston I guess I should have known—
the passengers sat silently in equidistant rows.
Some were staring straight ahead and other’s eyes were closed.
I was on a train of zombies and I was all alone.

I moved along the aisles between the undead passengers,
asking for as a seat, it was as if they hadn’t heard.
They sat and swayed in glazed incomprehension till I passed.
I was on a train of zombies and hope was fading fast.

On a train of zombies, unaware but still upright.
Black boxes in their hands, lit with otherworldly light,
some connected to their brains with wires that were white.
I was on a train of zombies, headed out into the night.

I huddled in the vestibule that says no riders here,
waiting for the train to slow so I could disappear.
But the conductor ripped the slider open and he smiled with savage glee
like Nicholson in The Shining, as he said, “your ticket please!”

On a train of zombies, unaware but still upright.
Black boxes in their hands, lit with otherworldly light,
some connected to their brains with wires that were white.
I was on a train of zombies, headed out into the night

The train sped up and slowed down for no reason I could tell.
Conductor at the door as if to guard the gates of hell.
The lights began to ****, they went out and then came back.
Commuter rail incompetence, or the sign for the attack?

The seconds passed like minutes, the minutes passed like days.
In the silent rolling tomb I was accepting of my fate.
Then it shuddered to a stop by my own rusty station sign—
I headed for the exit and I never looked behind.

On a train of zombies, unaware but still upright.
Black boxes in their hands, lit with otherwordly light,
some connected to their brains with wires that were white.
I was on a train of zombies, on a train of zombies,
on a train of zombies, headed out into the night!