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