a letter from The Zombie Brigade

Writing this through sub-Saharan sunglasses,
 by a lot of black light, posters, etc.:
 anyway,
 Kyle said he'd introduce us
 and from what I've heard
 we have mutual friends at 'the hive,' etc.

My name is (redacted) ;
 I'm 31,
 b.a.,
 an active father
 of three dispersed children,
 and a Lieutenant in
 the 'the self-defense Zombie Brigade...'
 unsure what I'm telling
 this for.

All's quiet on
 The Northwestern Front,
 and at night,
 amid the sloshing
 and drum-like choir,
 the streets gleam psychedelic
 with gasoline rainbows
 and rife with feral
 or just unusual elements...
 freaks of every description
 and day-job

Many of us have h.i.v.,
 or relatively pacific porphyria,
 and most 'the American parasite'
 though that's the same
 with most of America,
 half the magazines say

well, it's been three days in
 reading Ginsberg, Poe, and Pushkin,
 over which I took the liberty
 of two Samosas,
 and the occasional 'camel crush'
 with Oksana...

So now it's off
 to another long
 drizzly, swaying march,
 always leaving three bayonet-lengths
 between you and the soldier ahead
 of you,
 which you'll know
 by the glowing yin-yang
 on the back of his helmet.
 Officers do the talking
 if we're stopped,
 so I'm assisting with this;
 it's only rarely
 a problem actually

I look forward to hearing from you,
 moon-sick,        (redacted)