and i couldn’t help but
think of you then—
but, fear not!
there is nothing to be
afraid of,
or made ashamed by,
or belittled or ridiculed for,
or imposed or impinged upon—no!
no thoughts anymore
no more feelings
no more words
no more longing
no more trying
this three-dimensional space—
this emptiness measured by
numerals, made of cubic feet or
meters (inches and decimals)
taken up by sound and air (decibels
and molecules)
—by hair—
to grow no more
to sell itself short
just like you do, like you
still do, just like i always did
and it’s ok that that’s
how it always was and is—
it’s ok that there’s no chance left
(for me or you, living or gone or
acting like it or not)—
what were we all ever
fighting for?
what was the point?
don’t cry don’t
swear don’t try
to care don’t
mind the hair
you find is there—
no!
just
breathe
the room where
boys and girls
became men and women
where voices were
heard, where friends
enjoyed, where nights
lay long, where
moon peeked through,
where love fell in,
paste glue truth poster
secret talk come close
watch out they’re listening
they’re gone let’s scream!
and scream we will
and scream we did
we were screaming all
the way to the
grave and back
and we never even
knew it
—in jubilation, in fear,
in salutation,
endeared
no echoes, no
sound, no
moves, no ground
—just space—
and it could have been
anywhere, it
could have been
anyone and they
could have been
anything in any place
(and it could have been us)
—but, this was it—
and if it’s a ghost that
haunts you,
then why don’t you try
haunting it?—
(learn where it comes from,
lie awake in dark corners,
creep up from behind,
shake the living shit out of it!)
until it dissolves,
compresses, devolves,
undresses
(and if it’s a room that robs you,
then why don’t you rob it?)
until tears no longer drip like
disfigured diamonds—
they’re vacuum-sealed
the wedding veil was
stolen from the
shipping trucks—blown up
and blown apart
(it was their statement to
their connect of how
upset they were it
wasn’t gemstones—like
they were told it
would be—and that
their plug better watch
every hair on
his children’s heads—sheesh!),
and the first words from
your mother’s mouth
when she was born
make sense of all
you’re going through—
though you can’t recall
what they were—
because you weren’t
there and neither
was her father
but her mother held
the secret/truth and it
wasn’t to be
withheld
just was lost to
oblivion
which is fine because
it wasn’t hers—
it was water it
was whisper
it was wind—
and it’s
from whence you
came,
it’s whence you
are going to
all lost to be learned
anew
over and over and over and over
and over and over
and over and over
and over
—so you’ll feel a little familiar—
because the room
where i died
is the exact room where
you do the same, the exact room
they have
prepared for you
next
and it’s just a little dream—
you’ve had it before, it’s been
a while but i promise
you’ll remember
when you have it again
just like joining a marching
band
or like getting frustrated
the one-or-
two times you
have to spell
“kangaroo”
or
“zimbabwe”
or
“goodbye”
Ghost Town Theatre 