"Do you believe in ghosts" she asked me.

How could I not? I see them everyday.

Big, round, bear bellies and greasy hair,

Sitting drunk at the bar table, yelling, singing, weeping.

Sad, hollow, sunken in eyes and scarred arms,

Standing at the train station, lost of mind, spirit, joy.

Pale, pimpled, puperty skin and thick sweaters,

Kneeling in the middle of laughing kids, quiet, small, broken down.

They are ghosts in their own way, fading away more and more because everybody is too afraid to step in.

August 16th 2022