Seeing Ghosts at Barnes & Noble

I duck between the shelves
holding international cook books
and road maps
trying to loosen the vice grip
around my lungs
A galaxy of spots freckle the
dark edges that cloud my
peripheral vision
And though I’m standing
some how I’m on the tea
cup ride and the
whole world is a spinning
blur around me
I never really believed in
ghosts until this moment
My flight or fight response
only half worked
I fled to hide between these
rows of books I can’t
imagine anyone needing and
then froze
Panic has seized me
and though I know deep down
I’m not really seeing who
I think I am
My mind won’t let go of
how much that stranger looked
like my dead
father.

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