Graceful Ghost Rag Poem by Peter Jay Shippy

Graceful Ghost Rag



After his death he frittered
His being in Bangor watching

Late-night TV. At dusk he might
Drink ale or laze across a bench

At Fish Pier boning up on stars.
Once a week he was required

To contact the people whose lives
Had touched his chord. He might

Leave a flea-bitten flyer
Under their windshield wiper—

Have you seen my lost cat? Or
He'd email, inviting them

To loan princely sums to a prince.
Do you remember ascending, once,

And your elevator stopped but
No one got on or off? That was him.

That was the one that got away.

Friday, October 24, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: ghost
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Peter Jay Shippy

Peter Jay Shippy

New York / United States
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