street lights blaze like frozen explosions

Gobbergo has done a good poem on the dead in our lives.

As a sub-genre, zombie poetry semms pretty much confined to Halloween fantasies of horror or humor. The Poem on Zombies is more nuanced - strangers on the street, dead in life through mindless self-annihilation; the relatives we loved, now dead but ghostly-present as companions of our memories; and, as we grow older, our sense of death always by. Like Samuel Beckett, famously unable to go on, yet going on, and on, Gobbergo says "smiling a little, I shuffle forward again into the dim."