What?

By the old Springfield,
in the weeds and swamp, we laughed about
this whole zombie thing.
I and Grandma had two pistols
and a pike; we set-up a moat—

Killed the invected
then we calmed down, Night came, early
spring, full of fireflies.

We drank hot cocoa,
steaks in the charcoal jet engine
we salvages, We begged
the Gods for peace. We where safe for
now—

Grandma was dying of breast cancer.

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