Pass Without Notice

I look up from the cold ground, and say, “You almost made it by me this year.”

Terry looks toward me, but not at me.

You may not even see them. If you can see ghosts, you can see them. Otherwise, you just see and hear me talking to myself.

I told you, Terry says. I’m always with you.

“I know,” I say. “I know you said that. But I haven’t felt you lately. You know. Like I did before.”

Doesn’t mean I’m not there, they say.

The song starts, but just in my head. If you have unlocked the secret of telepathy, then you can hear it. If not, then you can’t.

“Christine McVie died,” I say.

I know. She’s right over there. Terry motions with a nod of the head.

“Why would she want to come here?” I ask. “This place is a dead end.”

Terry moves closer to me then, puts a spectral hand on my shoulder, says, I know this is hard for you.

I want to cry, but I can’t. I don’t know why. The medicine maybe. Or maybe it’s being so deep inside myself, in the very cells, that I just can’t cry in here.

You will when you need to, Terry says.

“Wish I could hug you,” I say.

You can, they say and then they hug me.

But I don’t feel it.

I don’t feel it because Terry’s dead.