ghosts
coughing up, real sounds
pretending to sit in the corner of a room
smoking real cigarettes in front of the window and
not seeing anybody walk by for hours
making the bed everyday
popping balloons filled with smoke
walking without direction before the sun wakes up
knowing the existing cracks in the wall
and watching the new ones grow
sleeping in parking lots and on floors. . . . . . . and not sleeping for days
knowing that three weeks is the same as years
returning to the bed that has already been made and sitting on the floor
