Our ghost liaison lasted seven years.
Luck or damnation, I’m not sure which.
I still find ectoplasm between my toes
And, now and then, sense
Your image in the glass.
Beer glass, you’d probably add.
I can still hear your voice:
Who’d love you,
If they knew you first?
Mistakes do happen,
Of course.
You spooked me out,
While teaching me the secret of the universe
Amnesia prevents
Me from recounting.
No help to alchemists perhaps;
But what makes me glad
Is that, for a moment in time (where else?),
In your ethereal arms,
Mortality made sense.
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