Why am I still watching Zombie movies?
We’re always surrounded by difficult ideas
vivid and pulsing, the insides of things,
barely concealed by the outsides of things.
It’s nice to know there’s some kind of order:
Follow the rules. Lock the front door.
Keep things tidy. Keep yourself nice.
Have a plan, stay close to home.
That’s what separates us from the monsters.
It’s not what your hair looks like,
it’s the effort you put in each morning,
it’s the time you spent on your hands and knees
scrubbing the blood out of the carpet.
It’s not about surviving, it’s about love.
I mean sure, sometimes it seems better
on the other side, the elegance of pure appetite,
the momentum of a single relentless idea.
Sometimes you gaze out the car window,
the engine running, outside the seven-eleven,
and wonder what it’s all for, the instinct for living,
startled by your own pinkness, the flush of mortality,
the sweetness on the palate of the tongue,
the prickling of the skin – heat, cold.
You wonder what it’s like to be dead.
You wonder what it’s like to be alive.
Kristin asked the question.