In theory, we begin to leave ghosts
the moment a self of ours is shed
from the surface and becomes the self
that exists in the past,
and we occasionally see the selves again.
A self of mine is nursing a bloody lip
at the bottom of a slide,
while I-Who-Was is practicing basketball
at my grandmother’s,
(as though the hoop is still there),
and in fact, I am certain I have left many
of me behind, in every place that held me,
because I bumped into my own ghost,
(in broad daylight, no less), vainly searching
Hot Topic for a shirt in our former size.
By Heidi Turner