GHOSTS AND MEMORIES

ghosts and memories
the night is cool
for July
and the silence
is nearly oppressive
the rain has stopped
the dogs are sleeping
and all the night dwellers
have given up.
serenity and terror
like half sisters
from the same mother
walk around my room
hand in hand
the phone is silent
the fan is off
and I have this grave feeling
that the world outside
is not the same
something out there has changed
or maybe it is something inside me which has
I would go out there
but I cannot
I am exhausted from this life
that keeps barreling on
down the mountain
over the hills
splash!
through puddles of mud
and lakes of blood
this is not the world
into which I was born
nor is this the body
I had called my own
the brain is already losing hold
it tells me to reach down
and scratch my thigh
but when I do
it tells me no, not there
a little lower, please
the knee
the knee is what itches
there you go
we’ll still be able to manage.
in my youth I spent plenty of time
in the woods
in the sun or in the rain
under fortresses of wood and earth
all the while
mainly just occupying my dreams
my fantastic imagination
was a factory for original thoughts
that have all
since proven very unoriginal
a siren rings outside my window
the bridge will soon rise to let
the boats pass through
it all seems very unreal
very dreamlike
tonight
and I can’t help but wonder
who are we
but ghosts and memories?