Don’t haunt the living.
Somewhere Ernest T. Bass impersonators stub their toe on a gilded chair. In pain they cry out to God to explain their fates. And no one learns why. Until it’s too late.
Somewhere a woman haunts a man’s memory with her thick, flaming, bright red hair.
Somewhere a woman cries out to God to kill her as she aches with the gross stench of hatred and vile bitterness.
ASomewhere a jealous, confused, truly lost ghost finds himself too far to the right. Too far to the left. Too far to save. Or too far gone?
Somewhere, we hope, someone smiles…
Keen to Cross the Pond 