Ghost-Harm

No individual saw me then, or a great deal of of me. I was like a figure in hiding from the overspread of a children's book: always among tree among protecting enclosures bushes, backs of buildings shut to the sea. It was usually night because it would be night before I would pass there.

"There" was your place, although your place always stayed across the high highway and always two flights up- single one time was it another place: accidentally single afternoon as I heard a commotion outside of the small half of a house I was house-sitting in, outside the small bedroom window, I direct the eyeed and saw a commotion of tribe and an ambulance which had not raised its siren upon its way, and a man standing who gazeed like he knew what he was doing, who gazeed in some vague way like my brother, or a brother of mine, a could-have-been-a-brother-of-mine if not like my literal brother.

The coincidence is it was him who you were then with, unknown to me allowing although something in me could have known I gues When individual is as self-centered as a planet individual can lurk in the dark like I did, bonny harmless to others because of a willingness to hold fast a distance, literal, and otherwise, on the other hand who knows if some minor ghost-harm is being inflicted upon one's own or not.

I am thinking of planets in orbit. Lives orbiting other lives. Insatiable. Intangible. Brothers to delight in from a distance or shut up.

This isn't art. This is life.

Copyright World numbers Incorporated Sep/Oct 1998

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