I was raking up ghosts
from under my ghost tree;
they fell throughout the
year, not just in autumn.
After filling several black
plastic bags full of inert ghosts
I threw them in the pickup to
take to the landfill.
Just my luck,
the landfill was closed for
Memorial Day.
So I dropped them off with
Andy, the caretaker
at the local cemetery;
he grinds them up
for mulch.
Back home I sat under
the insubstantial shade of my ghost tree,
drinking cold buttermilk.
I began remembering my dad,
who liked cold buttermilk
and shot off the little toe
on his right foot so he
wouldn't be drafted,
when another ghost fell off
the ghost tree at my feet.
But this one was a lively little cuss.
It sprang up and danced about,
flinging its shroud around like
a hula-hoop.
"What makes you so lively, little ghost?"
I asked it.
"Oh, I been taking ghost vitamins" it replied,
doing a somersault.
"What're those?" I asked.
"Made from tombstone dust, bat wings,
and cypress bark" it told me, looking up at
me with a wistful smile -- as if
it might like to try to be alive again.
"Seems a shame to take you to Andy
to be ground up for mulch" I said to it
kindly.
"Must you?" it asked meekly.
"Can't have you ghosts cluttering up
my yard, now, can I? The neighbors
would complain" I said, avoiding its
black hollow eyes.
Suddenly the lively little ghost
floated quickly up into the sky.
"I didn't know I could do that"
I heard it say as it drifted out of sight.
I decided to grill a steak for
dinner that night.
