Ghost
I say “Good morning” as we pass in the hall.
We’ve passed in the hall every day
for nearly eight months now.
You never say anything back.
Surely by now you recognize me,
surely by now you’ve noticed my
security pass
my new shoes
as you look down to the floor
lower your eyes
to the carpet(before the reno),
now this new carpet,
to the fall leaves
which found their way indoors
by the constant stream of people
who don’t see people,
wind.
And there are more than one of you!
I don’t say ‘morning,
I say good morning
(we all know its the morning)
and I’m wishing goodness on yours!
and still
you say nothing
Sometimes I reply silently to myself
“Wonderful, and you?”
“Very well, thanks for asking. I just finished a really great book! I could lend it to you.”
“How did you know I love to read?”
Sometimes I imagine turning around and smacking you upside the head,
“Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”
Your saliva hits the wall and I think,
how awkward it will be to walk past that spot
tomorrow
morning.
Will your spit stain the particle board?
Leave remnants of your DNA?
Or will you peek around the corner later,
watch to see no one’s around
and wipe the wall clean?
or will you leave it there
pretend it doesn’t exist?
your spit
like me
a ghost