every morning
the calendar does a leaf fall
i wipe at a coat of dusty

fingerprints. i think it is poetic
the attention of the ghost
i am told she loved

conversations and people. will she accept
my mutterings, musings and
introvert hunches?

is there a button
that could stop us from
silently stalking each

other thoughts include
how does one court a ghost?
would food or flowers have effect?

which is making an assumption
that my ghost is still a part
human like me or

a part of a whole, a
drop in the bathtub, a
flicker remains of a

fire scent.
that is the trail i will
chase forward
​
though running towards a
ghost doesn’t feel like a
functional device.