Zeffira the Zombie, Dawn of the Dead
couldn’t get sweetbreads out of her head.
She craved them at morning, required them at night.
She shuffled and shambled, obsessed with a bite.
She sometimes lamented that she had no time
to paint or to write, or perhaps mountain-climb.
Where once she’d been adventurous
she now was far too ravenous
with habits so unscrupulous
that served her hypothalamus.
One day, she’d simply had enough.
Although she knew it would be rough,
she simply had to make a change, and
though it was perverse and strange,
she’d heard the benefits of grains.
She vowed that she’d renounce the brains.
Zeffira took classes on how to bake bread.
On hosts of toast she daily fed.
She found a dish of beans and rice
was quick to make, and tasted nice.
She found that she preferred quinoa
to some poor soul’s amygdala.
And as the others limped along,
incognizant of right or wrong,
Zeffira learned to roller blade. Then
every Saturday she played
cribbage with some nice folks from town
who she would once have gobbled down.
And to this day, she still abstains
from gorging upon human brains.
She cherishes her peace and quiet,
never has to flee a riot,
never ever wastes her day
chasing after faster prey.
She eats tabouli and falafel
while she writes her epic novel.
So while the other zombies think
her dietary choices stink
and complex carbs are too addictive,
Zeffira never feels vindictive.
Her critics don’t look quite so smart
as they all rot, and fall apart.
So she just nods and smiles at them
as their own obsession condemns
them to atrophy and decay
as they lurch through every new day
whereas Zeffira greets each dawn
as a new path to journey on.
So keep your brains inside your head
and eat some granola, instead
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