all my ghosts

...or on how maybe you can go home again

about a week or so ago, the bastard was standing on the platform staring out into space when his peripherals went off. i was standing too close to the yellow line while folks were trying to pass on a narrow span overlooking springfield blvd when what should appear to me but a ghost. sure, he looked older, still a little round in the middle, just like how i remember him when i met him 26 or so years ago when i used to shun the dub's friends or rather they shunned me and i only played with hyson and yvan. you form your own petty little fiefdoms when you're a kid and you exclude and include as your pathetic grasp of reason lets you. anyway, the bastard said, "looks like 'em, but no one's here anymore. their all gone. gone to the four winds. besides, why the hell would he acknowledge an old bastard such as myself." and the bastard resumed his staring contest with the wind, hoping like hell that it gets better.

tonight, the bastard decided to spend his gift certificate for the container store. apparently, i need containers. as the basement fills up with the bare necessities, i need something to put some of it into something. so i make my way to the platform bumping the unwieldly thing into people excusing myself like never before. this time i was the offending idiot and i took full responsibility. i can't find a good spot so i keep rolling down the track until i get my spot. and what should my eyes see but, there he is again. the ghost of mr. october. right there in front of me and i take in a good look. damn straight it's him. he looks like a man fulfilled. he's talking to his guys and one gets off at jamaica and seats clear off and mr. october and remaining friend sit down, i opt to join them. as i sit i ask him and before i can get past, "aren't you...", he asks, "are you the bastard?" damn, i had a laugh, face to face with this ghost from my past. this kid i used to play football on the corner with. his brother is in the service in virginia, his sister moved to san antonio and he moved around the corner. i knew his parents house was for sale but, i never in a million years thought anyone would still be in this place i spent so much of my time trying to get out of. mr. october felt that if this neighborhood was good enough to raise him, then this neighborhood is good enough for him and his wife to grow old in. made the bastard feel like it's going to be okay. because you can come home again.

—the bastard