Ghost Morning

GHOST MORNING this morning i awakened to your face stirring in my cup of (strong) black coffee. and last night you visited me and we touched each other which is something we had never done. now, here you are, in my coffee and i am afraid if i drink one sip i will never be rid of you. keith, you were powerful in life, consuming our friendship as though it was something to eat up and spit out. until this morning i had forgotten just how powerful you were. but, you always held the best cards: four aces, a full house. a winning hand. i remember you said you’d make it back, back, back to me so when you knocked on the door this morning i foolishly let you in. and when you hugged me i knew i should have kept myself locked up, hidden away because your arms held me so tightly i think you wanted to be me as much as i wanted to be you. keith, i (honestly) wanted you to leave (me alone), but this morning i saw your face in my coffee and i saw myself (giving in to you again). you were always so powerful performing your magic tricks so easily i had forgotten it is not wise to play games with you. this is a ghost morning, keith. and you and i are still bound up, tied together by cups of bitter black coffee and a quick hand of cards. i sip my steaming coffee, watch your eyes, as you deal the cards. i play the hand you deal me. i know you are not bluffing (you never did). i lay my cards on the table and fold. the game is over, keith. you win. Copyrighted June 24, 2011 Jim Brewer