Sometimes the Ghosts
Sometimes the ghosts, finding it is spring again,
take to the street, strolling through the lamplit dusk
to the old magnolia park. They sit on benches they don’t remember
being there, they linger on the bridges over the creek.
They wonder aloud about the bicycles ticking past,
scandalously-clad runners on the path,
people picking up after their poodles;
and their murmurs stir the blossoms,
scenting the air.
Sometimes the ghosts frolic so splashing
in the Neptune pool that the smell
of summer meanders up the hill.
Sometimes once the sun fades, the ghosts make light
in the windows where no light has burned for decades.
And the glow is warm, and there is almost an audible
tinkling of laughter, a shade of melody,
almost.
Sometimes the ghosts catch a glimpse of fire out the fifth floor windows.
But that is only the blaze
of October’s splendor on the hillside
across the avenue.
And the dancing resumes.
Sometimes the ghosts sit so thick
at this cafe table that our conversation cannot be
private. Our now is infused with the past
Magnolia fragrance and October senescence.
And when we walk away we feel relieved
but we are not really alone.
***
This poem is the third in my marathon of poems (plus 3.8) for Tupelo Press’s cool fundraising project 30/30. You can view the poems I and the other “runners” submit every day during the month of March, at
http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/.
Please follow our work, and if you find it even the slightest bit entertaining, engaging, thought-provoking, or just generally worthy, donate to Tupelo Press, an independent literary publisher. Sponsor me by entering T. Thibodeaux Baar in the “in honor of” line on the donation form, which you can find here:
https://www.tupelopress.org/donate.php
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Thanks for stopping by! I am happy to hear from you via email or comments. 🙂
LouLou (the main monkey)
