December Ghost

I have been walking

Through the holiday season

As if from the inside

Of an ice tunnel

I see cheerful lights

I hear joyous voices

I smell pine

But everything is muffled, remote

I experience these sensations

From a distance


As I trod Locust Walk

On my way to my

Sterile subterranean office

I know that I will yet again

Spend too many hours

Trying to wrestle

My focus, attention span

Back onto work

Deadlines looming

My thoughts too easily

Wander away into ether


Other commuters

Look as though they

Are on another plain

Of existence

Our colors, our vibrancy

Do not match

No look of recognition

No acknowledgement

As we pass each other

They are like ghosts

Drifting by on the cobblestones


It occurs to me

That perhaps it is I

Who has become

The ghost

Washed out

Stretched thin

Rendered transparent


Liable to disintegrate

Become completely


If strong enough winds blow


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