Parking Spirit

I saw your ghost today,
Your doppleganger,
Your twin from another time and place.

He startled me,
As I walked from my new office
In my new clothes
From my new job.

My life with you was so long ago
You would not know me now.
I traded my flowing skirt
For the corporate uniform;
And my birks for a parking space
On the second floor every morning.

I’m happy. I’m content.

But I saw your ghost today,
As I walked to my car
And now I pause again,
Just for a moment,
And reflect
“What if things had been different?”

It’s too hot today

Pen poised over paper, prepared to compose
I struggle to write my thoughts on Fall
On this Virginia afternoon, in this record-breaking heat.

I can recall those cool Septembers when Frost
divided the seasons distinctly
On the rocky coast of Maine, between tourist and winter.

Harvest blood moons rose low in the sky.
The rolling fogs were tinted vivid
With the oranges, reds of dawn, in a mantle of  splendor.

Perhaps it is only Memory’s polish:
I think back upon bus stops and play
As crisp and stimulating, instead of just bitter cold.


I should really quit

my obsessions, they burn inside and

these tendrils and curls of smoke that

bring your face to mind

drift up and away from that bright red tip

like faded shadows

they are slowly killing me

with their insubstantiality

from within

they grow dimmer, they leave me

with each breath

wanting even more

that I take now

of what we once shared.

I am lost.