Caren Krutsinger Poet Narrative

Let Us Travel To the Zoological Gardens

“Let us travel to the zoological garden, “ said she,
born and bred in the eighteen hundreds.  
I had no idea what she meant.
But she was dainty and beautiful.

One of the prettiest ghosts I had ever met.
I said, “Okay, let’s take my car.”
I opened and shut her car door.
She screamed when we began to move.

She was wearing a bustle that shoved her forwards.
Her nose nearly touching the windshield.
I asked her to take the bustle off.
She was horrified, calling me a horrid man.

“You are a strange young man,” she repeated.
Screaming as we drove faster on an interstate.
We drove around the city all day. 
She recognized nothing.

We passed the zoo six or eight times.
I had no idea it was a “zoological garden”
So we never stopped.
She disappeared shortly after six.

“Bye!” I said softy, determined to look up 
Some of her other words.
She was a dainty, delicate strange old one.
And her English barely understandable.

“Bye weird one” she whispered into the wind.
“I shall never forget this.”
Then I had a gentle brush against my arm.
A ghost good-bye maybe. I smiled.

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