Ghost Girl

She is always there.

Walking on the side of the road.

A skinny teenage waif
In different outfits.

But it is always her.

Everyday
Blonde hair drifting
Behind her
In rhythm with her feet.

I drive my daughter to school.

There she is.

I go to pick peaches.
That was definitely her.

We go to get milk
From the grocery store.

“Dad”
“This is really getting freaky”
My daughter says.

It’s her again.

We see her
Miles all around
In different locations
Walking the berm
Next to cornfields
And suburban developments.

Two towns
With a river
Inbetween us.

She is there
Crossing the bridge.

I told my daughter
She is
‘The Ghost Girl’
Jokingly.

But I saw her
When I was going to get coffee
This morning.

I passed her
Black coffee in hand.

She gazed
Surveying her path straight ahead.

I tried to smile.
I tried to say hi.

But I couldn’t smile
And I couldn’t say hi.

No words issued
From my mouth
Only silence.

Ghost Girl
Walked past me
And I couldn’t even turn
To watch her walk away.

When I could speak again
And turn around

She wasn’t there.

She was somewhere
Creating a legend.