I dreamed about a thousand zombies

orange sauce slithering across once-youthful skin

their tongues tingled and licked

while I cried out for my mother

but she didn’t come

 

and I dreamed about a man who deemed me

obnoxious and egotistical over a Chick-Fil-A counter

and I can’t even remember why

I was driving a car too fast through traffic

the horns shrinking, the steering wheel slipping

 

but when I woke

I tried to shake it

crumbs on a consciousness

I wandered a winding road, listened to Tchaikovsky, and smiled while the moon rose

but then the bills bombarded

 

the world demanded I pay up, interest rates contracted, fine-print fungus

among us the mustache man marked me

weak, artistic, sensitive, honest, a waste

and the world deemed me

too swarthy, my mustache bolstering a thousand bombs

 

along with that name they always butchered

I tried to have a dream about something, stars, Coen Brothers movies

carriage wheels and balls where I

could waltz across safe spaces, covered by bowler hats and John Goodman’s gun

with all the moonlight and freshly-dried sheets

to sink into

along with a smile

 

but a wolf

wandered out of the woods

speaking in nasal New York accent

 he tried to grab me with his small paws while I ran

and I woke up

 

and washed my wails with Merlot

some Malbec, some Pinot, a bottle of Diet-Pepsi

in a full glass

and tried to waterboard it all

but the glass wasn’t full enough

Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program. His stories, “Soon,”  “How To Be A Good Episcopalian,” and “Tales From A Communion Line,” were nominated for Pushcarts. Yash’s work  has been published in The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Write City Magazine, and Ariel Chart, among others.