julie london’s ghost

julie london’s ghost.
julie london has been haunting my apartment.
from room to room she appears, transparent,
singing the same song in her husky voice.

in the kitchen i’ve avoided cleaning for two weeks,
she stands next to a sink of dirty dishes,
with a fox stole and a chiffon gown.
and just when i thought she was gone,
she appeared in my bedroom,
floating slightly among the piles of laundry.
once i turn my back,
she has reclined in a nest of t-shirts like olympia, as though it were a bed of pink satin,
her eyes flitting toward nowhere,
as she moves her lips to the song playing from an invisible record.
her voice is beautiful, i’ve always been a fan,
but its been at least a week,
and i can’t watch television with her voice as loud as it is.
and while i put the headphones in my laptop to do some work,
she still fades in and out of my living room,
demanding attention from the corner of my eye.
but i don’t understand what she wants, exactly.
i never promised her anything, or felt the need to apologize,
though i understand what it means to be a jilted lover.
the only thing i can say, is that she makes me forget how dirty my apartment is,
that tomorrow, i work a long shift with only one cigarette break.
that the dishes are piling and rent is due.
i always wonder where she gets her beautiful dresses,
instead of what i’m going to do with myself.
-thomas lampion 2012


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