Café Exel-Z-ior: A Zombie Zonnet

by Juan Manuel Perez

when I close my eyes, I find myself there
on the second floor of an old building
in the middle of a much older town
the smell of coffee and the sound of jazz
permeate the walls by my sleepy chair
watching the rhythm of the falling snow
as I sip on coffee and contemplate
a copy of Longfellow on my lap
questioning the poem about this or that
of a frozen man with a strange device

I open my eyes to a harsh chorus
of deaf-tone moaners in the streets below
clicking my weapon from safe to auto
sensing that this is what Longfellow meant