Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Day two hundred and thirty five ... The ghosts are circling.

The ghosts are circling

they kick up dust in a still room

they watch me tie trash bags

and when I turn to walk

they roll up like a shade

they know what I will write

and they knew I would write that, too

they haven't been this excited in a long time

if that's what you could call it

they wish they weren't needed

they wish they could just watch

they were perfectly happy where they were

but they have no choice

they know too much

and so do I

the ghosts are circling.


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