there are a lot of ghosts here
there's the fat man with the beard and the red shirt and the wire-framed-glasses
and the old woman frail and thin with the whispy cloth she calls her nightgown thrown over her 'body'
and the man made of shadow with an old hat on sitting at the end of the room staring watching waiting
and the child who runs on foot lightly seen sitting on our couch and giggling at night
and the dogs who howl and cry but wag their tails despite the noise
and then there is my mother.
