she sighs.
he left his ritz crackers in the back of my car.
he loves his ritz crackers.

he probably does not care that much
about crackers.          she buries her face
in his favourite shirt, picks
his boxers off the floor          stretching the waistband--
look at this skinny boy.
holds the clothes as if they are the outlines of a body
          ghostboy.
this is a song, she says, turning up the music,
about being in love with a ghost.