my ghost will haunt the space of that old cafe;
nestled into the air above the second booth to the left
or tucked into the corner above the fish tank,
delicately breathing memories of proms and first dates
to renovators and brightly fluttering couples.

molecules agitated, eternally lingering in pursuit
of love lost to time and particular circumstances
dancing in stasis and unable to drift away from that cafe
and pink sheets in the sunshine, of longhorns
and the feel of a waist