Enthralled: Paranormal Diversions (Wicked Lovely 5.50)

Thanks to the internet,

everyone knows

that I did too.

But at least I was wearing pants.

My favorite Quiksilver cargo shorts,

which I’ll wear every moment

that I stay in this world.

No laundry needed,

because ghosts never sweat

or piss or anything.

I’m as dry as the bones

crumbling in my casket.

“Must be nice,”

Aura mumbles into her pillow

when I tell her

I’m going to meet George Clooney.

That’s our code

for “the beach,”

because when lifelong Baltimoreans

say “down to the ocean,”

it sounds like

“Danny Ocean.”

When we were kids,

our gang of friends

pretended we were in Ocean’s Eleven.

My big brother, Mickey, was Clooney

and I was Brad Pitt.

We’d stroll down the Ocean City boardwalk,

not nearly as slick as we imagined.

Our illusion of cool would crumble