I think you must have been a ghost
Though fleetingly you came
Quite suddenly you left
And though I search
I can find no trace
That you were ever here
In my eccentric place
My unruly street
My uptight drive
My impossible bed

No

Not a bristle
Not a piece of branded underwear
Not a scrap of paper
Tossed to a hidden corner
Nothing
Skedaddle

I don’t know where you came from
I never really asked
You never felt the need
To describe your home
Your wife
Your other life
You would just come
And make me love you
Re ensnare me
And then measure me
Judge me
Observe me
From your distance
Box me up
To a manageable package

You travelled light
No emotional baggage
But your heart was heavy
Your guilt
A crippling vice
Your love
Too shy of words
They flitted in and flitted out

Whatever we had built
Must have been like Jack’s house
A house of straw
Collapsed, fallen quickly flat
With an accidental sneeze
A tickly cough
Predicted alarming ease

The scientist in me
Had known
That my hypothesis
My postulation
Of Fragility
Would be proven true

Yes

I must have been that ghost’s imaginary lover
Because I still hover
By my windows, my doors
My telephone, my MSN
For just a word...
Though sometimes crushing
For just a sentence....
To read between the lines
For just a misplaced breath...
A missed call
A Zen-charged kiss

Yes

I was that imaginary ghost’s lover
And I must have died
And become human
Because now, you do not see me
Do not make an utterance
I am invisible it seems

My gravel
That once was welcoming
Is ironed now
Awaiting the return
Of whatever was intended