G H O S T

			Late
			        winter’s
			        subtle thaw
					 called you out
			        caused        you to shout
			        as the slickening glassine surface			
			        cracked
			        collapsed
			        beneath your fifth-grader’s
			weight

			On the bus to school—me the last to board—
			        I sat next to you
			        the only seat unpaired by friendship
			We spoke only as we had to—had to share the same space
			        And I can see your freckled face
			        unwashed hair
			        brown eyes wide
			        with what I see now as openness—no, acceptance
			        of fate
			Your fate
			        and the fact that your family was new to town 		      			                     from some other state—no one knew—
			        your name was Tommy or Billy or
			        Danny…
        damn...I don’t remember your name
			 Ashamed
			        I remember only that day—days after the fact—
			        it occurred to me to ask
			        what had become of you?
					…and the little girl in front turns ‘round
					says matter-of-factly: 'Oh, he drowned—
					fell through the ice on the skate pond—took
					the rescuers an hour to pull him out…'
			        and she promptly  turns back ‘round
			        leaving me alone in the seat unpaired
			        save for the lone ghost memory
			        of freckled-faced you:

			 The boy
			        whose name I cannot remember
			        whose face I can never forget—
			        I swear
			        when I die
			        you are there—eyes wide
			        pulling me     into	
			 the void		
									M. Ricciardi