(Continues from Senseless)

Laying on the tracks, staring at swirling 
darkness, I pieced myself back together.
My shattered senses returned tumbling
into place bringing the image of her.

But my eyes locked onto the moonlit tree
behind her and the light shining on me.

“You’re dead.”

She cocked her index finger at me as if it were a gun acknowledging my statement. “So are you.”

“Yeah but I watched you die.”

“Did my death make you cry?” She had topaz eyes, and they winked at me under a snowy fringe.

“Ghosts don’t make tears.”

“Are you going to lie there all night?” She examined her fingernails. Lacquered in matte white, they looked like she’d painted them with white-out.

“Did death give you a dye job cause I swear your hair was dark when I last saw you.”

She blew a silver lock out of her face, and it faded to black like the Metallica song playing in my head. “We’re dead. We can look however we want.”

“I didn’t get the memo.”

In fact, this whole thing smacked of devilry. I’d waited around for ice princess over there to rise, but she had stayed a corpse. So who was I talking to? Another devil? It made sense since last I checked the PATH tunnels had no trees. I sat up, but the view remained the same.

She sighed. “You really don’t get it do you?”

“What am I not getting?”

“You’re here to do a job, and you’re not doing it.”

If my life were a movie, we’d detour into a nice montage of my past. I waited, but no cameraman switched reels, and no helpful replay started. My memory banks remained empty of everything I’d done before I began searching for my story.

Find the earlier parts of this series here.

For OctPoWRiMo, 31 poems in 31 days–all part of one story. Watch me do it.

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