pop’s ghost…

saw him last night in my room….just standin’ there with a Pepsi in his hand…lookin’ out the window down the street which was lined by a hazy blue light…casting shadows…casting shadows…

he didn’t say a word…just like old times…never talked much…took a seat in the old Lazy-boy recliner and just rocked back and forth…back and forth…cleared his throat a couple of times…looked out the window some more at an old Dodge out in the alley…smiled…could remember nights when he and mom used to go park under elm trees ’round midnight…’fore there was bills…mortgages…mouths to feed…

and I wanted to ask him if he’d gone to heaven…if he’d met Jesus…Vishnu…Buddha…if he and Mohammed had shot pool for dough at some corner pocket on the bad side of paradise…or…had he just been roamin’ the earth all this time lookin’ for mom…spookin’ old neighbors…walked ’round America takin’ notes…wanted to ask if he was at peace…if he was at peace…

we just sat there in silence…just like when he was alive…him drinkin’ a Pepsi…and me…too scared to talk…

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