The town was full of ghosts

that watched and listened. When they were alive

they were paid to trade their time for a living

but since they had died

not much made sense—probably, because nobody in the town

asked themselves, if their existence made sense.

There were restaurants: Mexican, Hamburger, and Pizza

Eating made sense, because it was an enjoyment, and necessary to stay alive.

There were churches and lessons in morality

schools with rules

a gas station where auto mechanics changed the oil (they knew things about the inner workings of a car, that professionals didn’t know)

a grocery store, where customers stood in lines

and the library, where a handful of the same people, sat all day, reading books from the natural light.

Knowledge is passed down from father to son, like changing a tire or replacing the spark plugs

time is kept in that memory, perfectly preserved

or your father might’ve owned bees, and explained the difference between drones, workers, and queens.

Then ambition owns the heart of every man

because he must support a family, and if he doesn’t work

she won’t give him peace

and that’s what men want

peace

but they are caught up with obligations—

(Who society says he needs to be).

If he has time to think, which is rare

he won’t go to war

he might not get married

he won’t go to work

The ghosts can only watch and listen

to the repetition.

They never passed on

because they had unfinished business

to understand

what all this means

and the philosopher is in the library

thinking… should I make a family?

Men feel good surrounded by things

Only one or two, want a quiet room

with words

Somebody will give them to you

when you become a ghost.