The shadow asked you. I’m a ghost
Already, you said from your chair.
Are you ready to be all ghost?
The shadow asked again. Alright,
I think I’m ready now, you said,
And you waited by the window,
But it seemed like nothing happened,
Other than that the daylight dimmed.
While waiting, you noticed the drapes
Were overdue for a cleaning
And the windowpane had a crack.
Outside, a monotonous haze,
Neither solid clouds nor cloudless,
Blurred the dim, stolid atmosphere.
So? You asked the corner shadow.
When does this ghost business begin?
The shadow smiled, as shadows will.
Oh, you’re well in it now, my friend.
That’s a sad-looking parking lot,
You observed, absentmindedly
And apropos of nothing much.
Weeds were poking through the pavement,
And there wasn’t a car in sight.
Even the road looks abandoned,
You added, as you turned your face
To the highway in the distance.
Well, that’s the way it goes, the voice
From the corner shadow murmured.
What do you mean by that? you asked.
You know how, as you grew older
The days seemed to go by faster?
Well, they never stop speeding up.
Wait, time goes faster for a ghost?
Of course, said the corner shadow,
Then vanished as the roof collapsed.
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