ARTelevision

Ghostly World

If spirits do roam
In these spaces
Between the slow burning up of suns
And the inexorable downward slide of gravity
It must look this way to them.

Where the appearance of death is brilliant
And things freeze white in solid air
The escape of steam from nostrils
Mistaken for the soul
Turns things strange
Like getting gasoline

Out under orange and yellow bays
Great bright stalls on greasy concrete
The living dead stand still
Fueling up, driven to wander
Risking everything to get back home

The signs surround me
They are quite beautiful
But I know, in my marrow
They are all about dying

I’m not going out there
They’re spreading rumors
About spring - even rebirth
But that’s a matter of faith

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