It was a rainy day
when he sent off for a pair of X-ray specs
he had seen in the back of a comic book

Days passed slowly like they were stuck in glue,
outside, a bike, chained to a leaking pipe,
rusted.

Weeds escaped through concrete.

Upstairs, the rattling bones
of skeletons in closets,
ghosts under the bed,
spider legs,
electric shocks and books already read.

Finally, one day,
slack jawed the letter box opened.

A brown parcel, tied.
Postage stamps and ink.
His hands carefully unstrung
the string and the paper fell open.

If he had X-Ray specs
he would have known
that the package was empty.