Zombies Walking on a Partly-cloudy Day

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If I loved you I would tell you not to go.
Like a mother swatting (lightly) at a toddler’s paw.
I don’t love you like that.

You name yourself Somebody to walk with a crowd.
All blank eyes and wandering feet.
You talk to their shoes because the faces are barcodes.

Should I mention how your shirt is rumpled with sleep?
(The tag sticks up in the back, again.)
But you look happy(er) in a crowd.

I think that’s what they call it.





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