BACK TO SCHOOL SHOPPING

Rows of unsharpened pencils
in their little cardboard containers,
stiff-backed notebooks, wide-ruled,
with oversize margins for the diligent
students of life as it is.

This is how it was: me,
in the vainglorious shade
of the oak, my Homer and Ossian
tucked neatly in my leather satchel
beside the pencil case and peanut butter
sandwich, waiting for the bus
under the chemical blue of the sky.


THE GHOST

I am the ghost. Once, like you,
I wore a cloak of human flesh,
and when it no longer fit, they
drained my blood and buried me
at Rosehill. They marked the plot,
like all the others, with a wooden cross.

One night, out of sheer
boredom, I walked back
to town, to the house
where I used to live. That sound
the pipes make on winter mornings,
and why your dog comes back
with his tail between his legs, and why
you always seem to have trouble
sleeping--look no further. It is I.