Turn the lights way down
low—let’s tell ghost stories to the street
lamps outside. I’ve been looking
at those shadows
on your face all my life. It’s time
we should meet.
Turn the lights way down
low—let’s tell ghost stories to the street
lamps outside. I’ve been looking
at those shadows
on your face all my life. It’s time
we should meet.
She wants to scream
into another night she won’t enter—
let there be no more day ones,
let this fear dissolve
with chalk on a sidewalk
in the rain
to keep this disease quiet
straight on till morning.
So many conditions to be met
after dark. She pretends to be a stranger
when a drunken shadow approaches—
it’s the only thing left to do.