The specter
I never reveal
is in the line next to me
and I step back
as if to disappear
behind a display
only an illusion
funny, we were here
the last time I saw him
and he called out
across the parking lot
an apology that seemed sincere
but somehow haunting
I still hear it
The fraught words
admission of the time
he went a little crazy
so much I left lights on
and locked doors
listened for creaking floors
the ghost of a threat
Photo by Plato Terentev. Poem ©2024 Jen Payne.
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