You say you don’t believe in
random neurons firing.
I had a dream about zombies
the other night.
Not the face-eating kind.
They were infected people,
no need for food or water
or love or entertainment.
Just air, they needed air.
My friend Saipriya
was one of them.
She tried to convince me
it would be easier to
just give in.
Give her my hand
and stop running
from the inevitability.
You weren’t my partner
in the dream.
You were a friend
I knew from afar.
But I saw you.
I saw us and our life
together, and I ran to you
insanely, and I kissed you.
You were shocked,
but you knew it was right
to give us a slight chance
at happiness.
And we survived
for a time, dodging them,
wearing gloves and boots
and masks, so our skin
wouldn’t touch them.
We kept Saipriya
in a locked room
with others that had
the disease.
We fell in love
just the way we did
in real life, except
in a post-apocalyptic world.
And one day, one of them
got to you, they touched you
and held you until you knew
you were gone.
You looked at me with
a braver look than I have
ever seen in our true lives,
and you went to your room,
which you had stocked
with Chinese herbs and
an apothecary’s bounty.
You told me I mustn’t let you out
no matter how much
you begged,
until you had figured out
the cure.
