Sometimes fast is good
riding the passion that got you there
no time to think right or wrong
making love to a ghost
she leaves just as you begin to snore
in your dream you follow her
she floats to the Gucci shop and helps herself to everything
you’re sorry you ever let her into the apartment
ghosts are lousy lovers
you wake up
it smells of cats and old fish and cabbage
you can’t eat lunch
every street full of ghosts
you can see through your own hand
your teeth fall out one at a time
lousy lovers are ghosts
they used to be monsters
when they were attractive.
© 2016 Rob Schackne
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