at the drive-in

before I turned
into this fetid mass of pus and carrion
I had favorite movies that I would watch
my mind numbing and my body limp
like a wet dishcloth
I liked the silly ones
and the sappy ones
and the ones where zombies came through walls
to eat the heroes—eyeballs and all
I even liked the melodramatic
ones that lasted for fifteen or
twenty hours
of subtitles

I would watch them everywhere
in the darkened theatre
where thirty-seven strangers
rustled in perfect time
as they ate buttered popcorn
and stared at the screen
hypnotized into robot-ish precision
or at home with the lights on
stretched out on the couch
with my head hanging over the side
and my feet tracking up the wall
in an old t-shirt
with a bleach stain
splashed across the front
from that accident
when I was watching movies
at the launderette

but that was then
in the time I only vaguely remember
when I had all my toes
and my brain wasn’t quite so mushy

now I favor movies
that precious brain containers watch
in their cars with a window down
to let the soundtrack
and my foul breath seep in
and I watch them watching
with their eyes on the big screen
or each other
mesmerized by onscreen starlets marching
so inexorably
with no thought for who might be creeping
up behind their parked cars
reaching in
grabbing their hair and pulling them out
for a feast of
brains—and maybe even eyeballs as well

line count: 50


Please rate this low! Poetry Zombies want one star for their best work!
Written for "Poetry Zombies: Dawn of the Dreck!"  [18+].