The Ghost Of Frank Zappa Poem by Richard George

He is on the Northern Line
between Edgware and Euston.
Just him and me, in the carriage.
His stare irradiates me.
Guilty.

I wasn't there for Liam.
Now there was a fan of yours.
He took all that trouble
to make me lunch, and I stood him up.
I'm sorry.

He doesn't pass sentence.
He gets off at Chalk Farm
with the faintest smile
in his obsidian eyes:
'You still need a ticket'.