I  think  he  likes  to sit out back
                             where he once sat
with all his yard in view
  his chair is gone but he is there
                                    he sits in mine
                                   I saw him once
                      while pacing through
the house at 3 am
                       I stopped and stared
                       and rapped the glass
to see if he’d respond
                                                  instead­              
he looked away..
                
      he must have heard novenas
for the dead..
      
                         I saw his tired stare
                                        the thin hair
                         on his balding head
wispy with static electricity
  the liver spots across his brow
                       a prominent display
of reckless living                    
                                 his body lay flat
against the chair
               like a life-sized playing card
                         with hands and feet
from Alice in Wonderland

                                             I wonder
does he miss the rabbits?

                  I looked for him again
                                             last night
                            at quarter after 2
           I wanted to tell him its ok
   to use my chair to reminisce..
  
               nostalgia tends to look
                                             like love
to those who are without..

                 perhaps another night
                            I’ll see him there
                              within my chair
and maybe we can talk
I’d do my best to comfort him
             and put his mind at ease
                             about the things
he’s now without
        like this old house he built
                                        I’d tell him
I will be there soon
                                    soon enough
from his perspective
                                            by grace
50 years from mine                
                we’ll sit and talk about
                  the days we lived and
loved here..

                              *I am not naïve
                    I know he is a ghost
but I am not afraid