I remember that Rock ‘n’ Roll

song, Zombie.

As it played the night we had sex.

That cute little stuffed giraffe,

you had won at the carnival, sleeping

beside the case of empty beer


The beer

we drank as we rocked and rolled.

Afterwards, we fell into a peaceful sleep

that brought about funny dreams of zombies

dancing at a burlesque, while giraffes

twirled upon poles. In the center of the chaos we were having sex.


I awoke with a need for sex,

chugging the shot before it curdled the beer.

We gave that poor giraffe

another show as that Rock ‘n’ Roll

song gave us a rhythm of zo-ah-mbi-ay, zo-ah-mbi-ay, zo-ah ah ah-mb-ay ay ay-ie.

Sufficient to say we didn’t get much sleep.


That night, now plagues my sleep

as the emotions of my sex

began to take hold…leaving me in a zombie

trance. Where beer

joints…with their rock ‘n’ roll

vibe, began to occupy my thoughts away from a certain giraffe.


Though that little giraffe

seemed to help me fall into fitful sleeps,

since I could smell a hint of rock ‘n’ roll

musk, as I cuddled him close to my sex.

The sleep induced haze brought on by beer

showed the fall of the burlesque, behind my closed eyes; the end of the dancing zombies.


You go to that dumb zombie

parade. Where you’ll snap photos of women…those sluttish giraffes!

As I drown the beer

to fall asleep

to dreams of sex

long gone. Where I killed Rock ‘n’ Roll.


I can’t just rock and roll

away the passionate sex.

So, I succumb once again into your embrace…where I fall into a peaceful sleep.