that chair over there
isn't the one I'm thinking of.
(it isn't the one I had in mind, either.)

strange dents, as if
midgets sat there once.
questionable stains, as if
those midgets spilled their tea there too.
(and it wasn't even the proper tea!
some orange cinnamon affair.

come out of the corner,
the furniture won't bite.
come out and tell me a story -
the story of your ghost
and this sweet empty room.

back when the chairs
weren't inhabited by midgets,
your ghost used to drape itself
over that very same chair
(and when did navy fade to cornflower?)
and make rabbit silhouettes.

(or try, anyway.)

periodically your ghost would
ask my ghost what time it was.

2:37 pm, the bus should be here.

the bus has always been late.
it was late the day your ghost left.
it was late today, and that's why
your ghost is still in the corner by the door,
and I am standing here
criticizing the deco.