... haunted?...
Haunted?
As tho' a ghost
would want to live here,
looking over my shoulder
as I write, or
miming how I answer
the telephone;
maybe whispering
in my ear some advice
I'll never hear,
on how I should best
comb my hair or to not
wear that one
brown shirt I love so much,
it's really
not flattering;
wouldn't he or she
get bored so quickly,
sitting beside
me on the couch as I
read to myself,
turning the page
before he or she
was done, and I,
never feeling
the weight of the couch
shift
as they rose up
in frustration and
gave me the finger
for being so
boring and inconsiderate,
for having
not much of a life for
posthumous
participation.
