(only)

photo (1)
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only her ghost
the sound of a drum
in the mirror

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It was my birthday today. I got up in the dark, got born again. (No, not that way.) Went to work early and as I walked down the hall to my office the motion-sensored lights politely flicked on ahead of me. No one had been that way in a while, apparently.

I struggled all morning with some hard rewriting. I had to try to explain something I understood to somebody else who didn’t understand it. Sometimes writing works that way, and sometimes it’s more like explaining something you don’t understand to yourself. I do that at work a lot too.

In the afternoon, I corrected a lot of mistakes, which I’m good at making. I sent a lot of emails asking and answering questions. I looked at the future and tried to predict how it would work out. Some parts of it I was optimistic about and some parts pretty pessimistic.

I didn’t have any meetings. Most days I have a meeting or two. Today I was alone in my office all day. My office has large decorative circles all over the wall. I put them there myself. It looks better than it sounds. My office also has a window and every day, every hour really, I think about how lucky I am to have an office with a window. My office also has an extra desk and desk chair because I used to have an officemate and maybe I will again some day. I work all day next to a potential person.

I ate delicious chicken for lunch along with some not-very-delicious guilt about eating a chicken.

Really, I have rarely tasted such delicious chicken.

Today was pretty much like most other days, except I was paying more attention to it.

Maybe I’ll do that again tomorrow.

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October 31: 1-4: Boo.

october stars —
lighting up the ghosts
of fireflies

 

the ghost
I’ll be someday —
the leaf I can’t catch

 

trick-or-treating —
hoping to meet
more ghosts

 

crows in autumn—
telling
ghost stories

 

_____________________

I normally have a little bit of a compulsion to write haiku sequences in odd numbers (I just like it better that way, okay?), but four is a good number of haiku about ghosts. For the Japanese, the number four signifies death. (The words are homophones, I believe. Correct me if I’m starting to sound ignorant, as so often happens.)

I’m not scared of ghosts. For one thing, I don’t believe they exist. For another, I kind of wish they did, because who wouldn’t want to talk someone who had died and find out what the scoop was on the whole afterlife thing? Especially if it was someone you’d liked while they were alive.

So these haiku are not exactly calculated to strike terror into your heart. They’re more wistful, I think. Happy All Hallows’ Eve to you all.