This town is full of lost souls,
driven mad with loneliness and despair,
alcoholism and abandonment.
They wander the filthy streets they call home
like zombies, muttering obscenities, shouting at
ghosts in the way.
No one notices as they avoid.

No one rushes up in horror to say,
What’s wrong?!
What happened?!
Are you all right?!

No one offers a hand of compassion. No one
will admit to the tragedy at his feet. In his doorway.
Yet loudly they protest:

Save the whales.
Save the spotted owls.
Save the harbor seals.
Save the Bay.

Only I can see the zombies,
because I am becoming one. If I stay here,
soon I might share that look of dirty desperation, that
veil of forced dignity. That mad glazed stare.

Like the zombies of San Francisco.

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