#poetry untitled

you’re stuck somewhere in the middle,
first person but at a remove.

there’s a ghost typing these letters
sluggish motion
drifting through air thick as jello
as implacable and impossibly fluid as non-newtonian liquid

am I the observer or the observed?
you’re not sure you can tell the difference anymore.
is there a difference?

I’m resting my forehead against a thick pane of glass
the coolness dissipating under the hot fog of your breath
condensation clouding my vision
your tears wet and hot and silent
slipsliding down skin
to splash against the clear backdrop

I’m smiling now, and laughing,
you’ve just made a clever joke,
a quick one-liner response
automatic and easy as breathing
easier, even

you’re idly thinking about buying an oximeter
there’s never enough oxygen in the air around here
I don’t mind the high of it, though
it makes it easier, sometimes

you don’t need to breathe.
you’re just a ghost

and I am a haunted house.