When God Gives You Nothing But Zombies...Open A Restaurant Poem by Ted Sheridan

She recognized the wart above his ring on the third finger of his left hand
He waved for her to bring him his dinner immediately
Seated in the dimly lit corner booth of the Hell’s Kitchen and Restaurant
He had become a regular whenever “Brains” were on the menu
The waitress, who was his ex, had not yet recovered from his marital bite,
And knew all too well that if he had too much to drink
Some other young unsuspecting virgin would die tonight
There is a line at the door and the phone won’t stop ringing…
Making reservations for parties of two or more
The dead keep digging themselves up and are ready to feed
Business is good and profits are much better than expected…

2007 © T Sheridan