Something Strange

John Findura

This is something strange
This is a story I’ve written twice before or haven’t written
This is laying down with the air conditioner on high

This is something odd – a fortysomething ghost investigator
Who lectured us with disembodied voices
Who was showing us pictures in the static
Who is now with the ghosts himself

This is panic – this is accidently touching moss
Seeing a yo-yo, breathing past the graveyard
Washing your hands 23 times, back and forth
Now thinking good thoughts good thoughts good thoughts
So that no one will die

This is me trying so hard not to do anything at all